<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>peter losing wendy by athingthatwantsvirginia</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26409535">peter losing wendy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/athingthatwantsvirginia/pseuds/athingthatwantsvirginia'>athingthatwantsvirginia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Outer Banks (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Outer Banks AU, jj x oc, outer banks fanfiction, outer banks oc fanfiction</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:07:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>27,759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26409535</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/athingthatwantsvirginia/pseuds/athingthatwantsvirginia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For years, it has been Liz and JJ against the world. Life is a whirlwind of parties, pot, whispers in ears, and secret handshakes. But, during the summer before senior year, the lines between best friends and lovers become blurred. Sometimes, Liz wonders if the two of them will manage to survive the fallout when the thrill expires.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>JJ Maybank x OC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: All Outer Banks content belongs to Netflix.</p><p>*inspired by Taylor Swift's Folklore*</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The final member of the Pogues is introduced.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>trigger warning: suicide, PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION</p><p>a/n: The descriptions of abuse, suicide, and anxiety in this prologue and in this fic are based on research and my own experiences. Everyone is different. If you need to talk, I am always here.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em><strong>John B:</strong> "And that's Liz. Her father used to work with mine before he hanged himself three years ago. Since then, her mother's best friend has been Jack Daniels and she hasn't spoken more than two sentences to her daughter. Liz spends most of her time at my house these days. She can't do a lick of math like Pope can, but she's read almost every book in the Kildare County Library. Around the boneyard, she's famous for her once-in-a-blue-moon table dances. She's a Pogue through and through. No money, no future, and no way off the island besides a miracle."</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. we never painted by the numbers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>At the Labor Day party in the Boneyard, Liz and JJ have trouble avoiding each other.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> September 2, 2019 </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Though the sand was cool beneath her feet, Liz felt her cheeks burning red. Her heart beat anxiously against her ribs. Chewing on her bottom lip, she descended the slope down to the shore, where she would find the keg. Where she would find JJ. She kept telling herself there was no reason to be nervous, that it would be the same as it always had been. But as soon as she spotted him, her stomach sank and she had to avert her eyes. His face was lit dimly beneath the half moon, and she could tell he was smiling even from across the crowd of sweaty teenagers. Swallowing down the sick nerves creeping up her throat, she meandered through the masses and finally arrived at the center of the party. The other pogues, along with Sarah Cameron, stood around the keg like politicians schmoozing voters. Ask, and the people shall receive shitty keg beer. Liz wanted to grimace at herself for thinking such bitter thoughts, but she plastered on a weak smile instead. </p><p> </p><p>Kie noticed her before she even had to say anything, pulling her into a drunken side hug and squealing some joyous exclamation. Liz couldn’t quite understand her through all the slurring, but she knew the gist of the words tumbling from Kie’s mouth. It had been too long, even though they saw each other at work it just wasn’t the same, and the like. No matter how much she wanted to, Liz knew she couldn’t just disappear. She couldn’t suddenly stop showing up on the HMS Pogue for Sunday fishing trips or not make an appearance at a party. Especially not the Labor Day blowout to celebrate the beginning of senior year. </p><p> </p><p>Rather, she chose to fade away. Show her face less and less until, hopefully, they forgot she ever existed. It wasn’t an airtight plan, but it was the best she could come up with. She promised Kie they would dance together later, after Liz was able to down a few drinks. A chorus of cheers followed, the rest of the group elated to see the friend who had been working an inexplicable number of shifts the past few weeks. And, for just a moment, Liz felt secure in the spot where she stood. Kie had her arm around Liz’s shoulders, babbling on to Sarah about some memory from the Kook Academy Liz wasn’t present for. </p><p> </p><p>On a normal night, it would have bothered Liz. Before Sarah Cameron had shown up and John B started macking on her, Kie had been Liz’s confidant. The only other girl to relate to in the face of three clueless boys. But Liz didn’t share a childhood with Kie the way Sarah did. Liz knew she hadn’t exactly been replaced, but she was also smart enough to know it would never be the same. She would never again be the one Kie immediately thought to call when she considered cutting her hair or getting another spontaneous dolphin tattoo. It was Liz who had, in fact, replaced Sarah. And why would Kie need the replacement when the original was back in the picture?</p><p> </p><p>Despite the old, familiar hurt bubbling up in her chest, though, Liz just couldn’t bring herself to care when Kie and Sarah twirled away to go dance near the portable speaker. There were bigger fish to fry. Harder pills to swallow as she took a tentative step towards the keg, and the three boys, to ask for a drink. She wasn’t lost on the way JJ had been avoiding her gaze and hadn’t said a word upon his noticing her arrival. Liz was pretty sure it wasn’t lost on Pope either, even if she and JJ were both doing their best to act as usual for the sake of their friends. At least Liz didn’t have to worry about John B noticing anything was wrong. He was oblivious, as always. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Liz, where have you been?” John B asked with a wide smile, pouring her a red solo cup of watery beer before she could actually even ask for one.</p><p> </p><p>Liz shrugged and tucked some stray hairs, flying loose in the ocean breeze, behind her ear. “Here and there. And I mean...nowhere, really.”</p><p> </p><p>John B furrowed his brows and chuckled at her cryptic tone. “Okay, James Bond. Don’t tell me then.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just work and stuff,” she continued, noncommittal, as she accepted the drink from his outstretched hand. “Mommy dearest hasn’t been in the best mood lately, either. Lots of fires to put out on the home front.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ouch,” John B said, commisterating. “Well, are you staying on the pullout tonight? I think there’s a free spot. Pope’s staying at Kie’s, so…”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I don’t know. It just um...depends. I’ll let you know later,” she said, looking down into her drink and taking a big gulp. </p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t a drinker most nights, but she felt as though she might need a little bit more than she was used to. Still, the PBR burned warmly in her gut as it went down. She could almost hear JJ teasing her about being a lightweight. And she almost waited to actually hear him say it, but she knew he wouldn’t. She locked eyes with him for just a moment, but then a Touron girl came up for a drink, and Liz didn’t have his attention anymore. </p><p> </p><p>Ready to service a new customer, John B brushed off Liz’s uncertainty and gave her a half-nod, along with some sort of affirmative grunt. Only Pope kept his inquisitive gaze on Liz. By the time he approached her carefully, she had taken a few steps back from the keg and begun to space out, watching the reverie. Some heavy rap song played, the majority of the people in attendance dancing their hearts out in the sand. But Liz stayed close to the shoreline, the water licking at the backs of her heels. She’d discarded her shoes the moment she jumped off her bike, leaving them in the small basket. Part of her worried about them getting stolen, but then she knew nobody would. They knew what her bike looked like, they knew who she was friends with. The Kooks did, at least. And it was far more likely she would steal from a Touron before a Touron ever stole from her. She was debating whether to go and sit by the bonfire, up near the dunes, when Pope came to stand beside her.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, so...what’s up with you?” he began hesitantly. </p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?” she asked, not meeting his eyes and taking another long sip. The beer was already almost gone. </p><p> </p><p>Pope pursed his lips, then turned to face her fully and took on the stern tone of voice which always made Liz want to roll her eyes. “Did you and JJ have a fight or something? It seems like there’s some weird shit going on between the two of you. And you haven’t been around for weeks. Kie was worried sick last weekend when you skipped out on free crab legs.”</p><p> </p><p>“I had stuff going on, Pope,” Liz replied easily. </p><p> </p><p>“Can’t you just stop bullshitting me for one second?” Pope asked, eyebrows raised in frustration.</p><p> </p><p>Licking her lips, Liz took a deep breath to compose herself and finally looked directly at Pope. “I had to work. My mom’s a fucking mess. I was exhausted, alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“But it’s not just that,” Pope continued. He was approaching it almost as though it were a question of logic. As though he could solve everything if he only knew where the mistake in the problem was. “You and JJ are best friends, Liz. But you guys can’t even look at each other. What the hell happened?”</p><p> </p><p>Nerves began to jitter right beneath Liz’s skin, making her itch. “Nothing happened, okay? Maybe I just need some time...for myself.”</p><p> </p><p>Pope scoffed. Even on her worst day, the most Liz would do was hide out in the spare bedroom at the Chateau to take a breather. Never before had she willingly chose to stay at her own house instead of John B’s. Especially not since John B had finally become an emancipated minor the year before, and they no longer had to worry about Child Protective Services randomly showing up. Liz had always been so worried they would recognize her, and they would again start asking the questions they had asked just after her father died. </p><p> </p><p>“Time for yourself?” Pope repeated, unconvinced.</p><p> </p><p>She nodded. “Yeah. I went to the movies by myself on Sunday for the matinee. It was pretty great. They were doing an anniversary screening of <em> Donnie Darko </em>. Like any of you guys would’ve been into that. So there’s just one of many examples.”</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, Pope had to agree. “That movie <em> does </em> make a mockery of time travel.”</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly,” Liz exclaimed sardonically. She had watched the movie with Pope once. She remembered just how dissimilar their reviews of it had been. </p><p> </p><p>“But you and I both know JJ would’ve loved that shit,” Pope said.</p><p> </p><p>Jaw tightening, Liz let out a small, humorless laugh and turned back to the crowd. “No way. That movie doesn’t have a happy ending. JJ only wants a happy ending.”</p><p> </p><p>Before Pope could muster up an argument (she was right, after all; JJ couldn’t stand a less-than-happy ending unless they were watching some ridiculous low-budget creature feature), Liz left to go receive a refill. Shaking his head, Pope decided to let the problem lie for the time being. He wanted to go find Kie. He fancied himself a good boyfriend, and figured she would need her hair held back sooner or later. </p><p> </p><p>.   .   .</p><p> </p><p>Buzzed but not drunk, Liz laughed loudly at something the Touron boy across from her had said. He was short and stocky brunette, with straight white teeth and a bland face. But he was nice enough, and he didn’t seem to care that she was a couple inches taller than him. Besides, they couldn’t tell the difference when sitting on a log next to the bonfire. She was three drinks in, and finally the nagging voice was exiting her mind. Her heart was quieting to a steady beat, and she felt warm and calm instead of shaky. Her bare knee touched the Touron boy’s leg, and she smiled at the contact, though she thought vaguely that she couldn’t remember his name. </p><p> </p><p>It was a party though. It’s what the Pogues were always telling her before. She could let loose at a party, if she wanted. She could do without thinking, if she wanted. The uncertainty didn’t go entirely out the window, however, until she spotted JJ from across the fire again. He was dancing, like usual. With some tanned, blonde Touron girl. Her lips were bubblegum pink and she giggled girlishly. Liz knew she could never make herself giggle like that. Not at all. It wasn’t in her DNA. The warmth of the bonfire made her feel reckless, almost, as she saw the dimple appear on JJ’s cheek. He laughed at whatever the girl had whispered in his ear. </p><p> </p><p>She saw flashes of him everywhere, even in places he wasn’t. Without as much access to Twinkie, she had been relegated to the bus as of late. There was only so far her bike could take her. The day had been hot and muggy, and she had opted to take the bus to the bank instead of biking over. She preferred not to be a sweaty, melting mess when she sat down and discussed her savings. The savings her mother didn’t seem to know about. Her nose had been buried in a worn copy of <em> Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas </em>. She’d been sitting on the searing metal bench waiting for the bus to arrive, when she glanced up and her gaze immediately landed on a shaggy blonde head of hair. For just a moment, her heart had done a twist. It looked so much like JJ. Until whoever it was turned around on their skateboard, and Liz had found some random Touron instead of her best friend.</p><p> </p><p>At the time, she shrugged it off and kept up her alternating pattern of reading and obsessing over everything that could go wrong with her savings account. Later, though, when she’d been lying in bed with only the sound of cicadas to distract her, the vivid moment had come back to the forefront of her mind. There was something so visceral about the feeling she’d had. When she thought it was him. It left her wondering if she’d always felt so much for JJ, or if it was only because of what had happened this summer. She didn’t know. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember a time when just the sound of his name or the sight of his smile didn’t have her insides erupting with the flutter of butterflies. </p><p> </p><p>The lucid shock hit her again when she saw him dancing. A skip in the beating of her heart and a wave of involuntary shivers rolling over her. But instead of being confused, this time it only made her angry. She could think of no other way to stop her feelings for him. Try as she might, she couldn’t erase them. A dull, throbbing irritation settled inside her when the intense moment of realization passed. She noticed how the Touron boy still droned on next to her, unaware of the deep waters of thought in which she swam. She felt bad for not being able to remember his name. He’d just told her so quickly, before he’d launched into some diatribe about his hockey team. Something with an A. Aaron? Adam? Alex? It was no use, she decided. She only tried her best to listen, blinking harshly to clear her eyes of their pensive glaze. The Touron boy eventually saw her change in demeanor. His words became filled with awkwards gaps of silence as he lost his train of thought, and his mouth slowly turned up at the corners in a small, almost endearing, grin. </p><p> </p><p>“Would you wanna make out?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>She was taken slightly aback by the question. Of all the Pogues, she was the only one who had never hooked up with a Touron at or after a party. Pope had once stood alongside her in the lonely camp, until he’d gotten hot and heavy with some girl, just a few weeks before finally admitting his true feelings for Kie. Liz was just glad the secret was finally out between the two of them. </p><p> </p><p>Biting at her lips again, she let her mind swirl with thoughts, with possibilities. He was attractive, sure. Whatever his name was. And he certainly wasn’t looking for a commitment. He wasn’t always going to be there, at the end of her day and in the back of her mind, as JJ was. Again, moments with him played like a home video behind her eyes. Tossing pennies in the Williams’s wishing well on her tenth birthday and creating a pseudo-rosé to drink with the Pogues last New Year’s. Her heart beating heavy and high as she woke up from a dream about him, where he found such complete happiness without her. She could almost see it happening, the way he was dancing with the Touron girl. And Liz knew there was no way in hell she was sleeping at the Chateau. JJ was bound to take the pretty blonde home at the end of the night. And he would be just another step farther away from her. Everywhere in her world; and now, nowhere at all. </p><p> </p><p>She nodded. “Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>And she pulled the Touron boy in gently with one hand on his cheek before he could initiate anything himself. He tasted of hard liquor and disillusionment.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! Welcome to my new Outer Banks fic, inspired by Taylor Swift's Folklore. Please let me know what you thought! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Just so you know, this fic will not really follow canon. It will feature the same characters, settings, etc. but will not include the treasure hunt plot line. I hope you like it :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. linger like a tattoo kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Liz has a run-in with a Kook at a party. JJ, strangely, shows up late.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>trigger warning: suicide, PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION</p><p>a/n: The descriptions of abuse, suicide, and anxiety in this prologue and in this fic are based on research and my own experiences. Everyone is different. If you need to talk, I am always here.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>May 4, 2019</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a headache, Liz awoke, scrunching up her nose at the sound of the rooster out in the chicken coop. The sky was just barely alight with the rising sun, and a chilly morning breeze blew through the screens in the windows. Early May, and summer had still yet to set in. Not a problem to Liz, though. She was always glad to go a few extra weeks without the thick blanket of humidity which began to suffocate the Outer Banks every year by June. Debating whether or not to move, she stared up at the ceiling with tired eyes. There were cracks on the white surface, and a couple brownish water stains from the last tropical storm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite the open windows, John B’s house still smelled stale after a night of debauchery. Empty bags of chips, green glass bottles, and rolling papers littered the rickety dining table. After the party at the Boneyard, the Pogues had migrated back to the Chateau and continued into the darkest hours of the night. Judging from the orangey hue of the sky, they couldn’t have gone to bed more than a couple hours prior. Of course, Kie and Pope had gone back to the Carrera residence, claiming to want to sleep in a ‘real’ bed. Kie could never stand the uncomfortable springs sticking out of the pullout couch mattress, or the mattress in the spare bedroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ usually got the spare, but both he and Liz had ended up sprawled out on the pullout instead. She would have worried about John B suspecting something fishy going on, but she could hear his faint snores coming from the direction of his bedroom. Not that he would’ve ever raised an eyebrow at seeing them share a bed. Liz was just a textbook worrywart. Besides, the living room was empty save for the two of them after everyone else had gone to bed, when they’d stayed up talking and sharing a final blunt to take the edge off and kissing softly. No; they’d had the whole world to themselves, it had seemed, in the living room of the Chateau in the wee hours of the new spring day. Though she felt silly, Liz couldn’t help letting a small smirk ghost over her lips at the memory of only hours earlier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a moment more indecision, she found herself doing her best to rise from the bed without waking JJ. It took more than a few seconds to pluck his arm from where it was draped over her stomach. Drool leaked from the corner of his mouth where his face was smashed up against the pillow. Liz’s smile widened just a bit at the sight. Noticing the goosebumps which rose on her arms at the lack of JJ’s body heat, she grabbed the crumpled gray cardigan from under the pullout mattress. She’d noticed it under there the night before as JJ was sucking on her neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grimacing at the light from the back windows, Liz went up to the kitchen sink and got herself a glass of tap water. There was simply no way she was getting back to sleep with the hangover throbbing behind her eyes. But she didn’t particularly mind with such a beautiful sunrise. She had seen it so many times over the course of her life, on daybreak fishing trips and in the aftermath of long nights, but it always felt like the first time. Through the windows above the sink, she could see the reflection of the warmly painted sky against the water in the marsh. It glistened in small, glowing pearls on the dewy blades of tall grass in John B’s backyard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she was setting the emptied glass down in the sink, she felt a pair of arms snake around her waist. She startled, but relaxed into JJ’s touch after a moment. He had barely made any noise at all while padding over to her in his socked feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, JJ!” she exclaimed quietly, letting out an anxious, breathy chuckle. “Announce yourself, sunshine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not quite yet awake, JJ leaned against her. His head was on her shoulder, eyes closed as he spoke in drowsy slurs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, what time is it?” he asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My name’s Liz, not Jesus. But, hey, we’ve only known each other since we were seven, after all,” she quipped, teasing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He fought the urge to roll his eyes, eager to lay back down. The flashes across his memory of all the alcohol he’d downed the night before made him a little nauseous. “Gimme a break, Lizzie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She snickered, but relented, looking over at the clock on the microwave. “Half past five.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He groaned in response, shaking his head a bit. “I have to leave for work in like twenty minutes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit. Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Early bird breakfast,” he grumbled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That sucks ass,” Liz said. “There’s some aspirin left in the medicine cabinet, I think. If you want to take some before you leave.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hummed in acknowledgement. The tank top Liz wore slipped down over her right arm just a bit. JJ pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of her shoulder, on which her small, black and white tattoo of a betta fish peeked out from the neckline of the cardigan. She’d gotten it the day after turning sixteen, with a forged signature on the parental release form. It was the only tattoo she had. Since JJ had begun kissing her, it had become one of his favorite spots. Hers, too. The feather-light pressure of his lips reminded her of the night before, when she’d touched him just as gingerly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.   .   .</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rarely did Liz arrive at a party before JJ. He was usually the first to run down the beach, leading the way as he helped carry the keg. As he shouted in excitement, she could normally only manage a nervous half-grimace. But JJ was still nowhere to be found fifteen minutes after they’d finished setting up shop. Even the bonfire was lit. The past few days had been dry, and Liz hadn’t encountered too much trouble getting the logs to ignite. She was a former girl scout, and had slowly become the honorary firestarter of the group. She stood next to her creation, a red solo cup in her hand. John B had gone all out, supplying not just a keg but also the materials for mixed drinks. Liz was nursing a vodka-cranberry, taking slow, small sips. She was being careful to pace herself after the sloppy table dance she’d performed a few weeks back. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The late afternoon had just begun bleeding into evening, and the sky had darkened to a strange mixture of pinks and blues. A chilly breeze blew past her as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, and she took a couple more steps towards the heat of the bonfire. Still, she kept a careful distance from the main crowd. Kie had gotten into a conversation with Pope about use of fracking on the mainland as they sat next to each other in the circle around the fire. Liz could see how completely engrossed Pope was in Kie’s words, and if JJ had been there, she would have faked a gag at how cute they were. John B and Sarah, too, were lost in their own world, sharing flirty touches and lingering looks as they manned the keg. Though it had been months since the two had started dating, Liz still wasn’t sure how she felt about Sarah. The ice had melted between the Kook princess and the rest of the Pogues, but Liz just couldn’t bring herself to feel comfortable. Not around a girl who wore necklaces made of solid gold and got her highlights professionally done. The most Liz could afford was a seven-dollar box of dye, but years of practice had served her well. She’d started dying her auburn hair a fiery shade of copper during freshman year, just after her father died, and never looked back.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>While she’d been getting ready for the party, she’d decided to channel Halloween, even though it was May. John B and Pope had watched curiously as she donned her black lipstick and smudged eyeliner. Sarah had extended the offer for Liz to come and get ready with her and Kie. But Liz brushed it off. Most of her makeup was at John B’s house, anyway, considering how often she stayed there. Why bring it all the way to the Figure Eight? Liz couldn’t imagine stepping into Sarah Cameron’s room, seeing the closet filled to the brim with designer dresses; velvet and silk and tulle. Especially not when the best Liz could do for a party outfit was an ancient Jimi Hendrix t-shirt and a semi-clean polka dot skirt. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Before she could spiral deeper into the bitter storm in her mind, Liz was pulled from her reverie when someone bumped hard into her shoulder. Liz barely registered what had happened until she felt the lukewarm drink spill down the front of her shirt. The gray fabric on which Jimi Hendrix’s face was printed was splashed right down the front with a deep, pinkish-red stain. Furrowing her brows, Liz looked up to see the Kook girl who had walked into her retreating, barely casting Liz a glance. The girl, who Liz recognized eventually as being called Ally, was struggling to walk on her high heels in the sand, while also typing away on her brand new phone, adorned with a sequined case. Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. Maybe it didn’t matter that Ally hadn’t said a word, hadn’t looked Liz’s way, hadn’t apologized. But Liz looked around and found almost no one had seen what happened. John B and Sarah were all the way across the beach, and Liz could see Pope and Kie in a lively debate. JJ had still yet to arrive, it seemed. The t-shirt had been Liz’s father’s, vintage from his youth. And Liz knew it was unlikely such a stain would come out. She saw a flash of red and gripped the plastic cup so hard in her hand that it crumpled. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey!” she exclaimed, as her stomach swirled with nerves and her hands began to shake. She knew she should have just let it go, as she always did. The idea of starting something with a Kook had her heart in her throat. But it was her father’s shirt. Sometimes, she thought she could still smell him when she wore it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ally didn’t turn around until Liz called out to her a couple more times. She spun around slowly on her heel, just barely looking up from her phone. Confusion painted her face as she realized who was addressing her. “Yeah?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you see what you just did to my shirt?” Liz asked, gesturing down at herself, voice raised over the blaring music and the chatter of fellow partygoers. A few people at the edges of the bonfire circle, where Ally had been headed, began to look up at the commotion.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ally stared blankly at Liz’s shirt for a moment and then shrugged in disinterest. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Scoffing, Liz let an angry, sardonic smirk cross her face. “Damn, someone should give you an Oscar for that acting.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What’s your problem?” Ally asked, finally giving Liz her full attention as her face twisted in disgust. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“My problem is my shirt is ruined,” Liz continued, not knowing exactly what she wanted to get out of the exchange. She only knew that she was pissed, and she hadn’t felt quite so pissed in a long time. It confused her, but the few sips of vodka she’d downed were apparently making her more courageous already.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ally looked at Liz’s shirt for another moment. “I don’t know. I’d say I did you a favor.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Liz narrowed her eyes at Ally, who appeared to think the exchange was over and began turning away again. But before she could disappear into the small crowd of onlookers which had formed, Liz grabbed the drink from Ally’s left hand and tossed the mixture onto the girl’s white crop top and mini skirt set. The color was even more vivid against such a light fabric, and it looked like a scene out of a horror movie. A chorus of cliché gasps erupted from the voyeurs standing around, and Pope and Kie had finally gotten wind of the situation. They had yet to intervene, standing with hesitation. It wasn’t like Liz to start fights. Usually, she was the one who ended them. Pope always called her the dependent variable, but she was certainly deviating from the norm tonight. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Pogue bitch!” Ally shrieked, looking down at her ruined outfit. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Liz only smirked, feigning innocence and shrugging in a mock imitation. She couldn’t help but feel instant satisfaction. “You could always buy new, right?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ally’s face grew red with anger at the sound of Liz’s aloof tone. “This was two hundred dollars in New York, you cunt!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tragic,” Liz replied coolly. “You poor baby.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ally took a couple threatening steps forward and Liz let out a bark of laughter. She threw the cups in her hands to the side (which she would be picking up as soon as she could, knowing how upset Kie would be if she didn’t). She advanced to Ally and met her eyes. Without the heels, Ally would have been significantly shorter than Liz. With them, she was almost as tall. But it didn’t matter. Liz stared her down like she was a bug about to be squashed. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You gonna fight me, princess?” Liz asked huskily, feeling the lively fire in her stomach rising in her throat. Her smirk was ever-present, joyless. “Do it. Fight the Pogue cunt. See how that works out for you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re fucking crazy,” Ally said. She wasn’t quite scared, only surprised. Her brow was crinkled analytically. All this over a t-shirt. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, am I?” Liz asked, eyes wide in askance and mocking.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah. Just like your daddy,” Ally replied viciously, letting a smugness come over her face. She had recognized Liz only a few moments prior. On such a small island, word of tragedy got around. Most everyone knew about the girl whose father was found dangling from a beam in the attic. The audience made a sound of shock and awe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Feeling her stomach do another flip, Liz clenched her hands into tight fists at her sides. Her nails began to cut into her palms. Just as she was launching herself forward, ready to hit someone for the first time in many years, she felt herself being pulled clumsily away by the shoulders and the waist. She struggled in the hold for only a moment, before she saw Ally retreating back to her friends and heard Kie yelling in her ear to calm the hell down. Sarah and John B were running over, the entire beach now aware something was going on. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Let me go, Pope! I’m fine!” Liz yelled, tearing his arms from her sides and feeling freer at the release. Even though it was Pope, she still couldn’t help the panic which bubbled up within her from being restrained. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What the hell was that?” John B asked as he came over, Sarah trailing behind. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why do you care? Why don’t you go fuck your girlfriend?” Liz snapped coldly. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A pit of regret immediately sank in her stomach. Her entire body was flushed and adrenaline pulsed through her. Even if John B was pretty much her brother, she couldn’t help but let all her negative feelings about everyone mix into an indecipherable rage. Not her father’s shirt. Not some lousy Kook calling her father crazy. She simply couldn’t handle it. Sure, she knew people whispered comments to each other when she walked down the street. She knew the Kooks talked shit about her behind her back. But to her face was something else entirely. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>that</span>
  <em>
    <span> supposed to mean?” John B said, taken aback by the outburst.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just forget it, alright?” Liz sighed, breathing harshly. “I’m sorry...I’m just...my fucking shirt!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kie tilted her head at Liz in confusion, bringing a gentle hand to her shoulder. “Why-“</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Liz shrugged her off. “I said forget it! Can someone please just get me a new drink?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Recoiling, Kie stepped away and plucked the cups from where Liz had tossed them in the sand. Liz wanted so badly to make a full apology. She really did. And she would, once they got back to the Chateau. But she felt almost incapable at the moment, stewing with such uncharacteristic rage. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Silence and doubtful looks were exchanged, but eventually Sarah volunteered to go get Liz the drink and John B followed, tossing concerned glances over his shoulder at Liz as they went. She thanked them quietly, embarrassed, but then yelled after them, requesting they keep the cranberry juice to a minimum. Not much more than a chaser.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you sure-” Pope began, but he stopped immediately when Liz locked eyes with him. She meant business. No more fun and games. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Not tonight, okay, Pope?” she asked, a pleading, tired crack in her voice. It made Pope want to say more, but Liz cut him off again with another exclamation as she began walking away. “Where the </span>
  </em>
  <span>fuck</span>
  <em>
    <span> is JJ?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>.   .   .</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Down the beach from the party, Liz could barely see the orange glow of the fire past the crowd. She was still nursing her vodka-cranberry, a bit buzzed but not nearly enough to forget what had happened. Her eyes were burning with tears, but whenever she felt herself truly welling up, she would stop it. She’d sniff and look up at the sky until her eyes were dry. It was clear, and she could see the swirl of the stars so vividly against the pitch-black sky. Humming a Nirvana song under her breath, she sat with her arms on her knees, one hand clasped around the opposite wrist. The drink on her shirt had long since dried, but she was still chilly in the ocean wind. She’d thought about going back to the Chateau, but decided she didn’t have the energy to make the walk alone. Instead, she’d gone a good distance down the shore, and sat a few inches up from where the tide was coming in. The moon shone silver on the waves, and the sight of it almost made her feel better. But it didn’t.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She was only sad and tipsy. In her solitude, her mind wandered to her mother and father. To her siblings. She wondered what her mother was doing, probably already asleep. A bottle of Jack somewhere near the bed. It made Liz feel guilty for getting buzzed, but she only downed more of the drink in an effort to get the feeling to disappear. Her sisters, too, she wondered about. They didn’t call much, and she didn’t blame them. The oldest two were off at college on the mainland, living separate lives with their scholarships. The other, Nicole, checked in even less reilably. Last Liz heard, she was somewhere in New Mexico finding herself. And Liz was where she had always been, spending her nights at home cleaning up after her mother, sitting through tearful diatribes about what a saint her father had been. Biting her tongue through her mother’s lies. She was glad the Chateau had become the place to rest her head since her father’s death. Had she been forced to stay at home every night, she imagined she would have run off long ago. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>JJ strode up to her with his hands in his pockets, hat backwards on his head as usual. He sat down next to her without a word, carrying his own cup. Liz didn’t startle at his presence. Instead, she only breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure exactly what time it was, but he was more than late. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Contemplating the mysteries of the universe?” he asked, a small smile on his face. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She chuckled humorlessly, clearing her throat and sniffing. “Not quite. Just thinking about Kurt Cobain.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, no wonder you’re down here all angsty and alone, hot stuff,” he teased, but when he spoke again his voice was more solemn. “JB said you got in a fight with a Kook.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He’s a drama queen. I didn’t fight her,” Liz said, staring out at the ocean still. The breeze was cold but welcome, clarifying, and she took in a deep breath through her nose. “Ally spilled her drink on me. And then she said some shit about my dad...it was nothing.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sure doesn’t look like nothing,” JJ said, eyeing the stain across Jimi Hendrix’s face in the dimness.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She snorted a laugh, looking down at herself. “Maybe not. But I was going for a Patrick Bateman thing tonight, anyway.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>JJ sighed, licking at his lips. He debated arguing, maybe even getting fired up enough to go find some random Kook in retaliation. But he didn’t. He knew how she hated when he fought. Instead, he only took off his hat, pulled his sweatshirt over his head and went to hand it to her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re cold,” he said insistently, watching her shiver in the nighttime wind. She still hadn’t looked over at him, only staring out blankly at the waves. “And your shirt looks like you just went all Mrs. Crain on someone.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>After a long moment, she nodded, taking a final sip of her drink and then placing the cup down on the sand beside her. She still didn’t look over at him as she put it on. It warmed her up instantly.  The smell of JJ, Old Spice and weed and smoke, mixed with the ocean breeze. The wind blew past her again, the tips of her red hair just brushing her shoulders. She would have to cut it again soon. Since she was little, she could never handle her hair getting longer than her collarbones. It was just too much effort. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With JJ’s sweatshirt on, she wasn’t nearly as freezing.  “Thank you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re welcome, red,” he replied easily, taking another sip of his drink. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Where’ve you been?” she asked quietly, trying her best not to sound needy. “We got here, like, three hours ago.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, you know. Just robbing a bank or two,” he quipped.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. Her face fell, though, when she finally ventured a full glance at him. In the moonlight and the distant glow of the bonfire, she could see the cut on his cheek which was still oozing blood. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Holy shit!” she exclaimed, placing gingerly fingers on his jaw so he would face her. But his eyes didn’t quite meet hers. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m fine, Lizzie,” he muttered, swatting her hand away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Who did that to you?” she asked softly, tilting her head at him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>JJ shrugged. “Just ran into Rafe on the way over. I would’ve called, but I figured I should clean up a little so you wouldn’t freak out when you saw me. I guess </span>
  </em>
  <span>that</span>
  <em>
    <span> was a waste.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She shook her head a little. “That motherfucker.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Seriously, it’s fine. You should see the other guy,” JJ continued, smirking though it didn’t reach his eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Liz breathed out a sigh and thought about asking more, but didn’t. Instead, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on the apple of his cheek, the skin around the cut already bruising a deep purple. Her black lipstick had long since been wiped off, after her scuffle with Ally. Before JJ had arrived, she’d used the inside of her shirt to rub furiously at her face. Her lips were sore and pinkish, but soft against JJ’s skin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fighting to keep the shine of tears from his blue eyes, JJ let a small giggle slip. If his father’s fist had been a scream, her kiss was a whisper. It was so gentle he could barely contain himself, his heart skipping a beat. “Feels better already.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Does it?” she asked, pulling away with a tiny smile. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He hummed in confirmation. Tossing a glance over his shoulder at the party, he shifted closer to her. The kiss that followed was heated and hungry, both tasting vodka on each other’s tongues. Liz wasn’t surprised JJ was a bit buzzed as well. If she knew John B, he had shoved a drink in JJ’s hand as soon as he saw his eye. JJ was hard to read at times, but alcohol or weed were always surefire ways to cheer him up. And John B always made himself the captain of the party and the guests’ happiness. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Liz was out of breath, but she still smiled against JJ’s  lips. As fishy as his late arrival was, she was just happy to see him. Simple as that. In the weeks since they’d gone from friends to something more, she’d found herself thinking of him always. What he was doing, how he was feeling, whether he was thinking of her too. Usually, he was. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Away from the party, she could kiss him like she meant to, nowhere near the lingering eyes of her friends. No one else in the world knew but the two of them, not even the other Pogues. While the inter-group macking rule had long since been broken, there were other reasons to keep the secret. Sure, everyone had always said they belonged together. But neither of them were ready to let it be known to the world. Truthfully, Liz feared the pit of dread in her stomach, worrying over what would happen to their friendship if whatever they were doing fizzled out, would only grow heavier if everyone knew. JJ’s hand slipped beneath the soft sweatshirt and the stained t-shirt as they kissed, though. And, for the moment, Liz forgot all of her worries.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>.   .   .</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Despite everything, Liz found herself laughing wildly in the back of Twinkie, the rear doors opened. As she sat on the edge of the car’s floor, the carpeting plush against the backs of her thighs, she watched JJ dancing beneath the streetlight. They’d decided to head back to the Chateau, not particularly in the mood to deal with the Kooks who had ventured over to the other side of the island for the rest of the night. John B had thrown JJ the keys while they were still on the beach, instructing his friend to head to the car while he gathered Sarah, Kie, and Pope up. Liz looked more freezing by the minute, and while Twinkie’s heating wasn’t optimal, it was better than braving the ocean wind. John B was partial to being the designated driver, especially on the night of such a big bash. And, of course, especially when they already had supplies for an after party set out on his kitchen table. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Instead of huddling down in the trunk with Liz though, JJ took advantage of the pleasant, alcohol-induced flush warming his skin. He danced along to the Elvis tune playing from the radio in his cutoff Levis. The keys were in the ignition while the car sat in park, the heat blasting and the engine whirring quietly. Liz had heard the song many times on her father’s records. JJ gyrated his hips, ran his hands through his hair in an attempt to create a sloppy pompadour. He wasn’t very drunk, still coordinated enough to make a real show of it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just take a walk down lonely street, to the heartbreak hotel,” JJ sang along, curling his lip in a decent imitation.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Liz snorted and rolled her eyes at his theatrics, but giggled along. Ever since they were little, JJ was always performing, mostly for her. A strange sense of nostalgia washed over her as he watched him, under the makeshift spotlight in the inky blue midnight. Down below, the party raged on, but neither Liz nor JJ took notice any longer. For the moment, it was just the two of them. Eventually, the song faded away and JJ finished his impression. Liz clapped a few times, slow and almost mocking. Pouting at the lackluster response, JJ sat down heavily next to her and put his head on her shoulder. The laughter would suffice to please him; he’d only done the dance to cheer her up, after all, guilty he hadn’t been at the party earlier, when she’d needed him. But he whined playfully, nonetheless.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tough fucking crowd.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m just kidding, sunshine. You were just like the king, alright?” she said, starting to sober up but still focusing on the tingling of her skin at the drinks and his touch. Slinging an arm around his shoulders, she brought him closer and kissed the crown of his head affectionately.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.   .   .</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolling to a stop, Liz leaned her bike against the oak tree and ran her hands through her hair. It was greasy, and she decided she needed to shower before her lunchtime shift at the Wreck. It was a double, but she’d be back at John B’s by nine, with plans for a chill movie night. Kie and Pope probably wouldn’t make it, more eager for alone time in recent months. But there would still be the four of them. After they all went to bed, Liz could pad over from the pullout couch in the living room to JJ’s bed, as she’d made a habit of doing in the past few weeks. Though she was always annoyed with such a long shift, especially when the damn Tourons were starting their vacation season, it was good to know there was something to look forward to at the end of the day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sun was high in the sky, having risen fully, as she ascended the creaky porch steps into her house. The wind chimes near the door jingled quietly in the slight breeze. Doing her best to shut the rusty screen door silently behind her, Liz jumped when she saw her mother already up and having her coffee at the kitchen table. Usually, she was still out cold. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, mom,” Liz said, forcing a weak smile on her lips. She slipped her backpack from her shoulders and set it down next to the door. Then, she tugged her shoes off and went towards the kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hi,” her mother muttered, yawning, looking up from her paper and over the reading glasses on her nose at her daughter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ruth Walker was lately a quiet woman, but still remained every bit as incisive as she had been before her husband died. She watched as Liz poured herself a mug of black coffee, dressed in her cardigan and one of JJ’s t-shirts. Only her skirt was the same from the night before. Liz had been careful to make sure she left her ruined t-shirt at John B’s. The sight of it might have been enough to make her mother burst into tears. Liz’s hair was back in a low ponytail, and Ruth immediately noticed the dark mark peeking out from the neckline of the t-shirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Guess it was a fun party,” Ruth said, eyebrows raised but voice mostly disinterested.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz furrowed her brows at her mother’s tone, taking a sip of the coffee and turning to face her. “Hm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That love bite on your neck,” Ruth explained, staring at the hickey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Immediately, Liz flushed scarlet. She was glad she had left just after JJ, as the rest of the Pogues were still snoring. Certainly, someone would have noticed. They were usually careful, but as high as she and JJ were, she wasn’t entirely surprised they had gotten a bit carried away. She didn’t have time to stutter out a response before her mother continued.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just make sure he’s clean. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t get pregnant,” Ruth said, sighing slightly. “Girls your age know nothing about nothing. We can’t add another mouth to feed into the mix. I don’t need that right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clearing her throat awkwardly, Liz looked down into her coffee and nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I won’t. You know I won’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shrugging, Ruth went back to her paper. From her spot leaning against the sink, Liz couldn’t quite make out what her mother was reading, but she knew what it was anyway. Especially since her mother held a red pen in her left hand. She was circling real estate listings from the Figure Eight. Houses they could never even dream of living in. Swallowing harshly, Liz tried not to think too hard about what her mother was doing and instead straightened her back, about to head to the bathroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, mom, I’m gonna shower and then head to work. I’m probably gonna stay at John B’s again tonight. And maybe a few more nights after, since John has-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Ruth said flippantly, not bothering to listen to her daughter’s rambled reasonings. “Make good choices.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ruth didn’t look up from her paper as she spoke. Liz waited a minute for more, then finally made her way towards the small hallway when her mother kept silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought! Feedback nourishes my soul!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. holiday house sat quietly on that beach</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Liz retreats to the Chateau after delivering a “light-hearted” eulogy.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>trigger warning: death, PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION</p><p>a/n: The descriptions of abuse, suicide, and anxiety in this fic are based on research and my own experiences. Everyone is different. If you need to talk, I am always here.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    <em>October 26, 2019</em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The autumn wind bit at her cheeks as she pedalled down to John B’s house. Her black skirt flapped around her legs. Goosebumps rose on her skin in the chilly wind. She passed by house after empty house, the Touron area of the island desolate as the cold came. Not until she crossed over the bridge to the Pogue side of the island did she begin to wave at the pitying pedestrians. As they called out to her, she could hear the concern in their voices, feel their watchful eyes on her. In retrospect, biking home in her funeral dress probably wasn’t the best idea for keeping a low cover. But as soon as they’d cleaned up from the service, she was itching to get back to her friends. The knot of stress which had formed in her stomach the moment she had heard of her grandmother’s death was finally beginning to loosen, but was being replaced by sorrow instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her lips were beginning to feel numb when she finally arrived at the Chateau. Twinkie was parked out front, and the sight of it made a warmth spread throughout her. For just a moment. Flashes of the last three days came to the forefront of her mind, and her chest felt tight once again. She locked her bike up on a tree in the front, the leaves of which were beginning to turn a rusty golden orange. Only a few more days until Halloween, her favorite holiday. Liz would have been far more excited were it not for the current circumstances.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crossing her arms over her chest, she trudged up the steps and through the front door. Before her, she found the rest of the Pogues and Sarah Cameron spread across the living room. Sarah still wore her tasteful but expensive black dress. Pope and Kie had both changed. John B wore no shirt at all, while JJ had untucked his dress skirt from the one pair of pants he owned. They looked up practically in unison, and Liz felt awkward under their sudden gaze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The prodigal granddaughter returns,” she announced herself joylessly, throwing her backpack down beside the door and kicking off her cheap flats. At some point during the day, her old tights had sustained a few runs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Liz,” Kie said quietly, the first and only one to rise from her spot on the couch. She pulled Liz into a tight hug. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz reciprocated hesitantly, but ultimately relaxed in her friend’s touch. “Hey, yourself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How are you doing?” Sarah piped up as Kie pulled away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz only shrugged, barely tossing a glance Sarah’s way. “I’m fine. It’s not that big a deal. You guys seriously didn’t have to come.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John B rolled his eyes. “I swear to god, Liz, if you say that one more time—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Liz interrupted, padding across the room to the kitchen. “You’ll kill me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Flushing at the remark, John B shut his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz sighed. “That was supposed to be funny.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hate to break it to you, hot stuff, but your jokes are missing the mark today,” JJ said, with a hint of a smirk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though she wasn’t sure quite how to handle herself around him still, Liz was glad he wasn’t being bogged down by everyone else’s mopey behavior. Had she not been at John B’s house at the moment she received the news of her grandmother’s stroke, she wasn’t even sure she would have told them about it. After the spectacle the last major death in her life had caused, she just wanted to get the funeral over with and move on. But the time spent consoling her mother over the past three days had proven exhausting both emotionally and physically, and not nearly as quick as Liz would have hoped. Ruth’s brothers had arrived for the funeral, though, and were spending the night at the Walker residence. Finally, Liz would receive a break from the tears and the drunken wailing. For a minute, at John B’s, she would be able to breathe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a soda in hand, she plopped down on the end of the couch, squeezing in beside Pope. She pointedly ignored her usual space on the floor beside JJ. Maybe on a day when she’d gotten more than one hour of sleep she would have ventured it, but she was in no mood to decipher any of her feelings. She tried to focus on the random rerun of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Family Matters </span>
  </em>
  <span>on the TV, but she couldn’t manage it. The sick feeling in her stomach was soothed only slightly by the soda she drank. Eyes on the back of JJ’s blonde mop of hair, she wished to run her hands through it. She wished to lean against him. She wished for him to hold her, if only for the warmth. The Chateau wasn’t particularly well-insulated, and she ran cold, but those weren’t the only reasons she was shivering. The same thing had happened after her father died. She wasn’t sure if it was the sleep deprivation or the shear stress, but her body just wouldn’t stop shaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, she broke the tense silence. She knew the others were waiting for her to take the lead, as was almost never the case. After chugging down the rest of her soda, she went to chuck it in the recycling and as she turned, she raised her eyebrows. “So, I guess y’all didn’t like my stand-up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was a eulogy, Liz,” Pope corrected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz shrugged, leaning against the dining table. “I was trying to keep the tone light. Last time, I think the stuff I wrote was too heavy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the literary-minded one in her family, she’d been assigned the task of the eulogy immediately after her father died. Her mother said it was only right she do one this time as well. No questions asked. Liz had pretty much no say in the matter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ snorted. “Too heavy for a funeral?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She only shrugged again, not letting anything but a soft smile touch her lips. JJ regarded her, as she leaned against the back of one of the rickety dining room chairs, arms crossed over her funeral dress. He remembered it from her father’s funeral. It still fit her, as she was already one of the tallest girls in their grade by freshman year of high school. All three of the pogue boys still had at least a couple inches on her, though. Her skin was pale and ghostly, and there were purplish crescents beneath her glassy grey eyes. Waves of trembling rolled over her, and she couldn’t seem to get them to stop. Even when she’d been standing up at the small funeral home’s podium, her hands shook as she gripped her eulogy. Even as she read off funny stories about her grandmother, and rubbed her crying mother’s back. All of Liz’s sisters had been noticeably missing from the service.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I liked the part about the dog, though. Did she really throw a key lime pie at it?” Sarah asked, with her soft voice and sunny smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz nodded, eyes guarded. “Yeah, she did. It bit her. Our neighbors hated her, even after she moved to the nursing home. Makes senses, though. She was...opinionated.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, but without her, we wouldn’t have Holiday House,” John B said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s true,” Liz replied dejectedly, looking down at her feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before her father’s death, Liz’s house had served as a haven for the Pogues, similar to the Chateau. It was filled with loud parties and music, adults drinking cheap champagne while small children ran wild in the overgrown backyard. It was small, in one of the shittiest areas of the Cut, but Liz’s grandmother, Rebekah, had been determined to make it a home when she’d bought it with her husband all those years ago, after the Great Depression hit and her family’s money was gone. Liz’s grandfather, Bill, had died of a heart attack long before she or her sisters were born, but people around the island still spoke about him. The son of an oil man, who had escaped the NorthEast with his new bride without a penny to his name to go work on the boats in North Carolina. Bill and Rebekah had been the hope of the Cut when they were young. After he died though, Liz’s grandmother was never the same. She spent what little savings they had, and slowly descended into mild madness for the rest of her days. She had great stories, though, and Liz had loved living with her as a child. By the time Liz was in middle school though, the dementia had proved too unmanageable for both Liz’s parents, and they had to move Rebekah to a nursing home. Liz still biked down to the smelly home on the weekends to say hello, though Rebekah hadn’t been able to remember the face of her granddaughter for a significant while prior to her passing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, after visiting the home, Liz thought about her own mother. She thought about how Ruth would probably end up living the same life as Rebekah, unable to cope with the loss of her husband. Adding more useless, kitschy clutter to the tiny house, which would end up falling apart. Holiday House, as Rebekah had named it after moving in, had seen better days. The paint was peeling, the floor was creaking, the decorations on the walls were dusty and fragile. Ruth circled the listings from the Figure Eight in every paper, dreaming of a different reality. But she knew she would live in Holiday House until the day she died, or until it fell down around her. No matter how angry Liz got at her mother, she could never quite shake the small jewel of pity in her heart. Her mother was trapped. And Liz knew she never wanted to end up like her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But still, at John B’s mention of it, she remembered the old days in her house. When her father was alive, and his raucous laughter filled the space which now felt so empty. When her mother didn’t hate her job, didn’t open a new bottle of liquor every night, didn’t piss all the money away on yard sales to fill the void in her which was starting to feel more like a black hole. Liz missed her sisters, too. When they had all lived in one room, whispering bedtime stories and sharing clothes and fighting over tiny things. Sisters who claimed not to be able to make it to the funeral. It almost felt like a different life. Before her father died. And the after. With her grandmother gone too, Liz was beginning to feel like she couldn’t hold onto anything. It was weighing on her more than she cared to admit, though she hadn’t cried much at the funeral. She couldn’t stand the careful eyes of the funeral attendees. Instead, she swallowed it down and focused on taking care of her mother. But the sadness was beginning to twist in her heart. The funeral was over, and her grandmother’s life was over. Forever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz bit down hard on her lip, lost in thought, until she could taste blood. She snapped herself out of it when she started tasting a hint of copper on her tongue, and looked back up at her friends. Luckily, Pope had gone into a story about the time he, JJ, John B, and Liz had all stolen a small bottle of Bourbon and spent the night in Liz’s room getting drunk, followed by projectile vomiting out the window the next morning. It had been in eighth grade, the last big party at Holiday House before Liz’s father died. Before her mother had shut the doors for good. Liz was glad all the attention was no longer on her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But JJ and John B were still looking at her, not even adding commentary as Pope told the story to Sarah and Kiara. She glared at both of them, hoping they would get the message and lay off. They didn’t. After a moment, she gave a huffing sigh and stomped over to the kitchen cabinet by the sink. She grabbed the small stash of weed and rolling papers from the top shelf, along with a lighter. She didn’t bother looking back behind her as she went out onto the screened porch, and then sat down on the small steps leading to the back yard. The rusty door slammed shut as she went. The evening was beginning to set in, pink over the water beyond the small dock. She struggled to roll the joint and light it against her shaking hands and the wind, but was eventually successful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sweet taste of the pot filled her lungs. It was some of JJ’s best. Only for emergencies. She exhaled through her nose in two long streams and hugged her arms around herself. The smoke made her feel warmer, her chest familiar with the feeling. Her head was pounding, her eyes hot in her skull. She hoped tonight she would finally get some sleep. She wasn’t the biggest fan of her uncles, but she could have cried from relief when they said they would be staying with her mother at Holiday House the night after the funeral. Liz could only take so much more of sitting up, holding Ruth’s hand as she rambled drunkenly, spewing stories about her dead mother and her dead husband. Absolutely devastated about the state of her life. Liz felt for her mother, and couldn’t begin to comprehend what she was dealing with. But her shoulders were aching under all the pressure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The moment of peace was interrupted by footsteps approaching behind her. Liz assumed Kie would be coming out to offer a shoulder to cry on eventually, as she often did. Liz was grateful, but she didn’t feel like baring her soul, or listening to Kie rant about the importance of meditation to deal with grief. Maybe in a couple more days, but not right after the funeral. She felt guilty for not immediately accepting how much Kiara wanted to help, but sometimes Liz felt suffocated with all the concern.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To Liz’s surprise, though, it was John B who sat down beside her on the steps. She didn’t look over. She recognized his shoes, his smell. Their mothers had been friends, and they had known each other since they were born. Today, John B felt more like a sibling than Liz’s sisters died. At least he’d come to the service, despite her telling him over and over that he wasn’t obligated to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he said, holding his hand out for her to pass him the joint.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She did. “Hi.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How are you?” he asked, then taking a long drag on the perfect joint. He couldn’t roll anything for shit. Liz and JJ were always rolling for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She scoffed sardonically. “I’m great. Best day of my life.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. Stupid question,” he said, passing the joint back to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was,” she agreed shortly, taking another puff. Finally looking over, she saw he had donned his shirt again. He had that sympathetic, sickening look in his eyes. Liz could barely stomach it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John B cleared his throat, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. “JJ wanted to come out here when he saw you went for the emergency stash. But he asked me to instead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz nodded, face stoic. Everyone could see the shift between Liz and JJ the past couple of months, but John B was the one who had the best idea of what had happened. No one had told him anything, and he was often pretty oblivious, but he had known them forever. Back when they were children, they’d been the three musketeers. JJ joined Liz and John B in the third grade, and the three of them were inseparable for quite awhile. Until recently, the bond had never really changed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s worried about you,” John B continued.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Noted,” Liz said. “I don’t wanna talk about JJ.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I know.” John B stared at her for another moment, hesitant. Comforting people was not on his list of skills. When Liz’s father had died, JJ had been the one to immediately spring to action. Pope, too, had been better at it. John B had mostly been there for moral support, if needed. But he knew it was different now, and he was trying his best to figure out what to do. “Pope and Kie, too. Pope said you should be glad she got cremated. The decomposition process is pretty fucked up. You should feel better knowing she’s not going through that. In the ground and everything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz chuckled humorlessly, both at Pope’s oddity and John B’s tactlessness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And Kie told me to tell you to get some crystals. It’ll help you sleep,” John B went on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did Sarah chime in, too?” Liz asked, the tip of the joint glowing orange in the dim light as she took in another drag. She handed it back to John B.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John B sighed out a cloud of smoke. “She said she’s here if you need anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Liz said, giving a curt nod.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though he tried to swallow down his feelings for the moment, John B couldn’t help but feel a little defensive. “She’s trying to help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How nice of her,” Liz said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She knows you don’t like her, and she still wants to help you,” John B said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolling her eyes, Liz took another puff of the joint. “I don’t not like her. I just don’t know her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s not like you’ve made much of an effort,” John B said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sighing again, Liz finally softened her expression. She averted her gaze down from the water and into her lap. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want her to hurt you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She won’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know that,” Liz countered immediately, her voice hollow and almost strained. But she sounded more firm when she spoke again. “But, whatever. That was nice of her to say. Maybe I’ll hang out with her and Kie on fall break or something. Y’know, when my grandma hasn’t just died and everything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John B ran a hand anxiously through his hair. “Shit. I know. I’m sorry, Liz. I just love her. I wish you could be friends.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, I know, Romeo,” she mocked him. “Not sure she’s gonna want to be friends with me, though. I’m a bit of a bitch.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’ll get used to it,” John B said, shrugging. “The rest of us have.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you,” she said with a giggle, John B laughing along with her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a long while, they smoked in silence, watching the light in the sky fade out. Liz’s fingers and toes were tingling with cold again, as they had been on the ride over. But her being felt more relaxed with the drugs in her system, and she hoped her hands would finally stop shaking when she warmed up. Somewhere, a bird cried out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“John?” she asked, the word coming out in a puff of smoke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” he said. She was the only one who ever called him by only his first name. Just like his mother had. His mother had called his father ‘Routledge’ playfully, even after she took the last name for herself. And her little boy was always just ‘John.’ Liz was the only one of the Pogues who had ever met his mother, before she left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz took a deep breath in, smelling the crisp autumn air mixing strangely with the homey, salty scent of the sea and the pot. “Do you ever feel like...eventually…you’ll be the only one left alive in the whole world?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” he asked, furrowing his brows. He didn’t know if he was too high to comprehend what she was saying, or if she was too high to form a comprehensible sentence. Or if it was something else entirely that was making her hard for him to understand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fiddling with her earring, Liz sighed heavily. Tears stung in her eyes, but she blinked them back, regaining her composure. “Sometimes, I think I’ll be the only one left at the end of the world. I’ve even had dreams where I’m the only person left. But not because I want to be. Because I have to be. And everyone else will be gone, and it’ll be just me. All alone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. After my dad disappeared…” he began, but then couldn’t quite decide where he was going. He’d felt lonely after his father was lost at sea, but what she was describing sounded like something different. Completely different. “All I know is, I’m not alone right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Smiling a tiny smile which didn’t reach her eyes, Liz nodded and hummed. She stubbed out the last of the joint they’d shared before turning to head back inside, saying nothing more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.   .   .</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was an early night for the Chateau, but it had been getting darker sooner anyway, as autumn rolled in. Kiara and John B were still on the couch watching reruns, while Pope and Sarah tagteamed the dishes. Twisting his rings nervously on his fingers, JJ stood outside the door of his room. Technically, it was the Chateau’s guest room. But he could count on one hand the number of nights he hadn’t slept there over the past few months. His clothes were piled up in a mound in one corner. Meager stacks of school papers cluttered the desk. Not like he sat down to do any math homework much, though. Over the summer, he had begun to think of it as his and Liz’s bedroom, to himself. He hadn’t even told Liz that. But after what had happened, she was back to her usual spot on the pullout couch or on one of the hammocks, when it was warm enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz had been exhausted by around seven-thirty, though, when the Pogues were usually just starting the night’s debauchery, especially on a Saturday. She’d been nodding off on the arm on the couch, unable to keep her red-rimmed eyes open, despite her best efforts. Eventually, Pope had declared it ridiculous and offered to leave, to give her the quiet to rest on the pullout couch. Liz would hear none of it, saying she didn’t want to ruin the evening like she’d ruined the afternoon with the funeral. It had taken a fair amount of arguing before they all finally convinced her to go take JJ’s bed for the night. She’d given JJ a few hesitant, secretive, embarrassed glances, but he’d insisted. Along with the rest of their clueless friends. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ’s phone charger was in his backpack, which sat near the desk chair. Normally, he wouldn’t have cared about a low battery on his cell, but it was his only vehicle for an alarm. And if he was late for the Sunday brunch service at the country club one more time, he suspected his days as a busboy might come to an end. He needed that job, and his phone was so shitty, no one else’s chargers were compatible with it. He had to get in, grab the charger, and get out. But he knew what a light sleeper she was. And he didn’t exactly have a reputation for stealth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nonetheless, he got up the courage to tiptoe into the room. He cringed as the door squealed on its hinges. Looking over at the bed, he found she was on her side, facing away from the door. She was curled up on top of the mess of blankets, still in her funeral outfit. The rest of them had all changed out of the stuffy attire before eating, not wanting to get any inevitable spills on their good clothes. In JJ’s case, he would be pretty fucked for work without them. Liz didn’t stir, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief before padding over to his bag. Before he turned to leave with his charger in hand, though, he let his gaze linger on her. She was bathed in the moonlight streaming through the window. Even in sleep, she was still shivering slightly. As carefully as he could, he picked up a ragged quilt which had fallen off the bed and draped it over her. He thought he was safe. She kept completely still. But, just as he was about to head out the door, he heard her voice. Smaller and sleepier than he had ever heard it before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“JJ?” she asked groggily, turning over and propping herself up on her elbow. She squinted as she looked at him, confused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So close</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Yeah, I just had to grab my phone charger,” JJ whispered hastily. “Go back to sleep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned to leave again, but she stopped him once more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” she said. She rubbed at one eye with the heel of her hand as she spoke, no doubt smearing her mascara. But she couldn’t bring herself to care. “I um...I didn’t mean to steal your bed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No worries, Lizzie. I’m-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could you...stay? For a second?” she asked, not meeting his eyes. She felt totally pathetic. But she was a little high and a lot sleep deprived. And she’d been falling in and out of sleep restlessly since she’d laid down an hour ago. JJ was the only thing she could think of, even if she didn’t like it much. The only proven solution. “Only if you want to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Yeah, sure. Not like I’m dying to go fifth-wheel out there some more.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nodded, but said nothing else, lying back down and staring straight up at the ceiling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Plopping down onto the bed next to her, JJ struggled not to squirm out of his skin. He’d never been good at sitting still, and he was worried his jumpiness was only going to keep her awake longer. His nerves didn’t help. It was the first time he could recall being alone with her since the last night of August, when everything had fallen apart. They managed to keep a polite facade going around the others, but nothing was like it had been before. When they had been perhaps the two closest people in the world, attached at the hip, as Liz’s mother used to say when they were children. JJ knew getting together with her had ruined everything about their best friendship, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Everything except the way it had ended, of course. Not if he was being honest with himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A thick blanket of awkward silence fell on the both of them. JJ bit anxiously at his nails. Shutting her eyes, Liz took a few deep breaths. Her stomach did a flip or two. Before, they had been so comfortable around each other. The thought made her bit hard on her bottom lip again, sore from how many times she had already done it during the day. Sighing out harshly, she turned back on her side, facing away from him. She knew she couldn’t help the hot tears from leaking down her cheeks, and she didn’t want JJ to see them in the low light. Even in the darkness, she could still make out his profile, a rough, ghostly sketch of his features. She knew the wetness would shine on her face. She was beginning to feel stupid for asking him to stay, sensing how uncomfortable he was and feeling not quite at ease herself. But still, it was better than lying in the darkness alone, tired from the high but wired from the long day. Something about JJ still always made her feel safer, even if she hated to admit it. Even if she would never say it out loud. Maybe it was just the fact that they had known each other for so long, or maybe it was something else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She cleared her throat quietly. “JJ?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was glad she had broken the ice. If things were normal between them, his mouth would have been going a hundred miles a minute as soon as he sat down. But considering the way they had left things at the end of the summer, he was in no position to speak first, even if he was dying to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He frowned at the wateriness in her voice, looking over at her, lying on her side. She tended to curl up when she fell asleep, and it always made her seem so much smaller. Though she was shy, she still had a presence in any space she entered. Striking, statuesque, redheaded. And so fucking smart JJ sometimes felt like he couldn’t think straight when he was talking to her. The novels she read were thick and heady, and he often couldn’t understand them when he looked inside. But he admired her nonetheless. She would never get a scholarship, since she wasn’t particularly good in school: Bs and Cs and low class participation. Sometimes, though, she could talk circles around even Pope. It made JJ wonder why she ever hung out with him. Why she ever wanted him. She’d told him he was smart over and over, but just saying it didn’t make it true. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was in moments like these, though, as he watched her lying on her side, folded in on herself, that she seemed the most real to him. The most human human he had ever met. Despite her sharp intellect, and the biting wit she could fire off on the rare occasion she opened her mouth to someone other than the Pogues, she never talked down to anyone. She was in the moment with people, for exactly who they were and exactly who she was. And nothing more. It made his heart ache for her, even though they were so close they were almost touching. It occurred to him, not for the first time since they’d broken up, that he might never get to touch her heart ever again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” he said, raising his eyebrows as he answered, his thoughts racing through his head faster than he could grasp onto them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz sighed heavily. “Do you...do you think I deserve it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ licked his lips, letting out a breath through his nose. He was going to ask what she was talking about, but he knew exactly what she was asking. He skipped the cursory show of misunderstanding. He shook his head. “No.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sniffled, wiping at her eyes as she began to cry silently. “A-are you s-sure?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He swallowed thickly. As a child, she’d had a very mild stutter. A few visits with the free speech therapist at the public school had more or less solved the issue before middle school. But occasionally it still slipped out when she was upset. He wasn’t sure if the wavering in her voice was because of that or simply because of the tears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m absolutely positive, Lizzie,” he said confidently, regaining his composure. “All this...this stuff with your family is such ass. I mean, you know that. You don’t deserve any of this shit. If I had any say in any of this, I’d tell God to get his act together and give you the life you should have.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She snorted a laugh in spite of herself, ignoring the way her heart fluttered at the sincerity in his tone. “You think God’s gonna listen to you after all the stuff you’ve stolen, Maybank?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I could convince him,” JJ said flippantly, playing along as he heard her cheering up just a touch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rolled over slightly to cast a glance at him. “You’re that persuasive?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah,” JJ continued. “All I’d have to do is flash him my killer smile. That’s the moneymaker. You see?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grinned, goofy and toothy. She could see his dimples in the bluish light. She giggled again, tiredly. But it was enough for the moment. JJ felt successful, and winked theatrically at her to complete the look. She rolled her eyes and turned on her side once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You think you’re so slick, blondie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pretty much,” he agreed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he could say anything else, she gave another heaving sigh. The minute glee was short-lived. She glanced down at herself, wiping her face with her sleeve again. Her funeral dress had lived in the back of her underwear drawer for three years, stored away where she didn’t have to look at it. She didn’t know if she’d kept it for the purpose of wearing it again, or just because it was too difficult to get rid of. But at the moment, it was her least favorite thing she had ever worn. And she was a bit pissed to find it still fit after all this time. She would have liked to have more than her small boobs and waifish frame, but the most that had happened since she’d bought the dress for her father’s funeral was the widening of her hips. It was definitely a bit tighter than it had been, a bit shorter, but not enough to necessitate buying something different, especially given how hectic the days preceding her grandmother’s service had been. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hate this fucking dress,” she blurted out, an anger in her voice she hadn’t meant to express. “I should burn it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should,” JJ agreed. “You wanna have a bonfire tomorrow night?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A small, surprised smile appeared on her lips. “Really?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we’ll have a dress burning,” JJ said. “Like a bra burning, y’know? Why not?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Yeah,” she said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An independent variable. That’s what Pope had always called JJ. At times it could be frustrating, or exhausting. But at the end of the day, it was one of Liz’s favorite things about JJ. He didn’t care what anyone thought, or what he was supposed to do. He was marched to the beat of his own drum and walked down the path of uncharted spontaneity. Any day with JJ could turn into an adventure, and any idea sounded like a good one to him. She yawned, content with the thought that she could finally be rid of the dress, ignoring the question of whether or not she was actually ready to let it go, rip the bandaid off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You wanna borrow some clothes? Or if you brought some, I could get your backpack,” JJ offered, finally relaxing into his position as he sat on top of the disheveled covers and leaned against the wall behind the bed. The room felt more complete with her in it, even if everything between them had changed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No thanks. Might as well get as much use out of this thing as I can before I murder it tomorrow,” she said, looking down at her dress again. Then, after a beat, she continued: “I’m too fucking high to move, anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ laughed. “Yeah, you smoked some of the good shit. John B’s pretty much tripping.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She scoffed. “Lightweight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silence fell on them again for a few moments, tension still hanging in the air, but far less than when JJ had first come in. Liz took a moment to feel herself in her body, something Kiara always told her to do when they were high together. She felt the soft fabric of the quilt on her lower half, which she had just realized she hadn’t initially fallen asleep under. She ran a hand over it, and the feeling of it made her relax for no particular reason. The air was slightly musty, as it always was at John B’s. The room smelled of JJ’s deodorant. On her tongue, she could still taste the Kool Aid she’d had a glass of before going to bed. John B, for some reason, always had a pitcher of it in the fridge. Taking stock of her senses, she could almost feel herself drifting off again. But then her eyes suddenly popped open, some vague thought of her grandmother crossing her mind. The same pattern she’d been playing out for an hour.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been trying to sleep, but I just can’t do it. I think maybe I’ll stop fucking shaking if I go to sleep for longer than, like, ten seconds,” she said sheepishly, though there was an undercurrent of exhausted frustration in her words.  “I thought...could you do that thing you used to do? When I couldn’t sleep?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ’s eyes widened in surprise at the request. But it made him realize just how tired she must be. She was still pissed at him, he knew. And she would never have asked in a million years had she not been grieving and running on fumes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” he asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she replied instantly, hardly caring if she sounded too eager. “Is that okay? I mean, you don’t have to. I’m just so fucking tired, JJ.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, tears sprung up in her eyes again. She didn’t even know she had started crying again, but apparently her fatigue was upsetting her more than she thought. She wanted a dream, just one good dream. She wanted to get out of her own head for just a couple of hours. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I will,” JJ said, immediately shifting so he was lying next to her on his side. Had he been closer, they would have been pressed against each other. But he kept a careful distance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want some of the blanket?” she asked, twisting around slightly and offering a side of the quilt to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” he said, getting underneath it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can...get closer, if...if you want,” she said quietly, cheeks burning scarlet in the darkness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again, he felt anxious energy threatening to have him burst out of his body. But he tried to quiet his nerves as he scooted closer, so he was flush against her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she whispered through another sniffle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anytime, red,” he muttered softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, he brought his arm to drape over her waist. The movement was familiar, but he was hesitant. She was rigid under his touch for a moment, but then slowly began to relax. The way he used to, when they shared the room nightly and she would struggle to close her eyes for long enough, he began to draw haphazard patterns at the center of her ribcage, just below her bra. Before, he had usually done it with a hand under her shirt, skin on skin. But his touch was still featherlight on the fabric of her dress. And now, he drew stars instead of hearts, as he once had.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, we had this one old dude come into the club the other day. He was like...whacked out of his mind. I’m serious. I’ve never seen a guy with white hair so stoned before, especially not one of those rich guys with names like Todd Buckingham and stuff…” JJ began, speaking in hushed, slightly hoarse tones, close to her ear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sound of his voice eased her somehow. He had noticed at some point, and used the fact often when she had bouts of insomnia. He’d tell her stories, jokes, what he’d eaten that day, who he’d seen, where he’d been. The words didn’t matter so much as the sound, just that he was talking to her and touching her and being there with her. At first, it gave her goosebumps, the familiar feeling of his breath, hot on her neck. But then, when a few minutes had passed, she felt relief wash over her. Her body got heavy, along with her eyes. Finally, sleep was coming. She could feel herself actually dipping her toes into the waters of dreams for the first time in days, as she listened and reminded herself that she was home.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought! Feedback nourishes my soul!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. you'd get your knuckles bloody for me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A fight breaks out at the Labor Day kegger.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>trigger warning: sexual assault/harassment, anxiety/panic attacks, PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION</p><p>a/n: The descriptions of abuse, suicide, and anxiety in this fic are based on research and my own experiences. Everyone is different. If you need to talk, I am always here.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>September 2, 2019</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her hair was a pretty blonde, but it didn’t feel right when he twirled it between his fingers. Liz’s hair was messy and wavy and soft, despite her coloring it with box dye. The blonde with whom he now danced had hair like straw, bleached to a startlingly light shade. And she smelled different, like expensive perfume and body wash. Liz always bought cheap strawberry shampoo, or used whatever was around at the Chateau. The girl, Rachel, was shorter than Liz. Tan, too. But JJ could tell the orangey self-tanner from the natural look of most Outer Banks residents. Liz could never tan, though, despite living at the beach all her life. She burned instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ wondered at how quickly things had changed. For a couple weeks, things had been strange, they had been growing distant. It was over before it was over, but JJ only knew in retrospect. The last night in August had been one of the worst in his life. And though he was putting on a grin for the sake of the party, doing stupid stunts, drinking like it was the end of the world, he couldn’t stop looking at her across the beach. He just couldn’t stop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Touron boy he’d seen checking Liz out at the last kegger, Adam, had his arm around her shoulders. In between makeouts, of course. Liz giggled drunkenly, hiccuping, at something he’d said. JJ rolled his eyes, nearly into the back of his head. He’d had the displeasure of serving the boy a drink or two. All he talked about was lacrosse. Liz barely knew what football was, let alone something more niche. She was wasted, he could tell. JJ knew she wouldn’t have been able to tolerate one of the bland, Vineyard Vines-wearing Tourons from the mainland if she wasn’t drunk off her ass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d seen her flirt at keggers before. Before they were together. Then, he’d hated it. A kind of longing, a regretful sorrow filled him when he would watch the other guys, fawning over her. And she barely noticed most of the time. Only JJ did. Or the rest of the Pogues when they would tease her later, and she would blush and shake her head and look absolutely flabbergasted at the idea of anyone wanting her. But now, after knowing what it was like to have her and lose her, he simply couldn’t stomach it. He squeezed his eyes shut hard for a second, as though he could blink away the sight of her with someone else. Then, he turned back to the Touron girl and kept dancing, itching for more liquor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.   .   .</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the night fell, the sea breeze became cool and refreshing. Liz sighed contentedly as it soothed her pink, flushed skin. Roses of color bloomed on her collarbone, a tell-tale sign she was wasted. After making out with the Touron boy for a while, she’d thrown all caution to the wind and begun knocking back drinks. No matter how much John B warned her against getting trashed, he would always hand her another drink. Liz was a month older than him after all, and she knew how to manipulate him like a big sister. The liquid courage just made things easier; made it easier to laugh at the Touron boy’s stupid jokes, ignoring the arm he put around her shoulders and the way JJ stared at the two of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Liz hadn’t seen JJ in an hour or two, not since she’d gotten drunk enough to start dancing with Kie. The Touron boy was lingering near her, following her with his hungry eyes. She didn’t know whether to be uncomfortable, or if it was normal, or if she should feel flattered. But, in her drunken mind, she couldn’t bring herself to care very much. She twirled in the sand, feeling its silky smoothness beneath her feet. Sarah Cameron was off with John B by the keg still, and Liz was glad to have some time with just Kie in the midst of the crowd. It felt like some lost time had come back to them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was happy to see how in love Kie and Pope were, after crushing on each other from afar for so long. But Liz knew there would always be a soft spot in her heart for Kie, who had been her first kiss. Liz hadn’t know she was bisexual until one sloppy, joking kiss between the two of them on a night a couple years earlier, a night which had smelled of maijuana and stale youth. She knew they would never date, that they worked better together as friends, but she was glad she and Kie had shared such memories. It reminded Liz that she had been lucky enough to find her lifelong friends so young. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a lively skip in the beat of her heart, Liz let a grin come over her lips. It didn’t reach her eyes, but she could feel the tingle of drunken joy cross her skin. She yelled over the music to Kie, dragging her by the hand to the rickety picnic table up the beach, nearer the dunes, which she had come to know well at Boneyard parties. A confident stride took Liz up to the tabletop. The speaker closest to her and Kie had just begun playing “Bad Guy” by Billie Eilish, which was pretty much always Liz’s cue. Billie Eilish very rarely played at Boneyard parties, but regulars could always find Liz atop the table when she did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She moved her hips to the music, singing along. With a red solo cup in one hand, she twirled around. She was dizzy already, and spinning in circles wouldn’t make much difference. Her mouth felt dirty and her eyes were beginning to grow tired, but she just felt so young. So shameless when she danced. Table dances were her forté, after all. The crowd cheered her on, mostly Tourons who had not yet grown accustomed to her drunken routine. The novelty hadn’t had the chance to wear off. She felt shiny and glittery and all other delightful words which came to mind. In the back of her head, a voice told her to savor the moment. It would be the drunkest she was all night, before the buzz began to wear off. And soon she would start to regret her actions. But, for just one moment, she could relax. She could feel her heartbeat against her ribs and relish in the cool air filling her lungs. A wicked smile crossed her face, and she ran her free hand all along her body. She licked her lips, tasting the dregs of beer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Below, Kie hollered encouragement at her, beyond drunk herself. The crowd was happy and eager to see her keep moving, and the Touron boy had followed her. He was bobbing his head along with the music, a wolfish grin on his lips. From above, she started to see him more clearly. His polo and his signet ring. And she had to fight off a grimace of disgust when she caught sight of him. He couldn’t have been farther from her type. Only a few minutes had passed, and she couldn’t believe she had ever kissed him. He didn’t taste like JJ. He didn’t kiss like JJ. He didn’t kiss her like he enjoyed it, only like he needed it. She could still feel his lips on hers, impatient and rough. Brushing off the memories of JJ’s surprisingly gentle nature, Liz kept dancing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The song was almost over when she felt a hand grab her ankle. She shook it off, barely noticing, as the song reached its end. But then she felt the hand go higher, starting at her knee and edging up the inside of her thigh. Finally, she stopped and looked down, finding the Touron boy there. His eyes were glazed over and his pupils were big. But his grin looked more sober somehow, like he knew perfectly well what he was doing. She swatted his hand away again, brows furrowed. Over the music, she yelled for him to cut it out. Her eyes searched the crowd for Kie, who was dancing towards the group’s center as the song switched. Most had turned their attention away from Liz and back toward each other when they knew the performance was over. Steadying herself, she was getting ready to hop down off the table. But the Touron boy’s hand beat her to it again. Once more, his fingers enclosed around her ankle, and, accidentally or not she would never know, he gave a firm yank. In her drunken state, she lost her balance and landed hard on her ass, on the tabletop. She uttered a startled yelp and dropped her drink next to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The world was still spinning after her dance, and she had trouble focusing on the Touron boy as he stood in front of her. Smelling the jungle juice on his breath, she felt her stomach do a flip. He rested his hands on top of her thighs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What happened? I thought you liked me?” he asked, a hint of a laugh in his voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She pushed his hands away. “No! Stop fucking touching me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” he continued, leaning in to kiss her again, knotting his fingers in her hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was struggling to get him off, still unable to get her vision stable, when he was suddenly gone. She could hear what was happening perfectly well before she could see it, blinking harshly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.   .   .</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Having long since abandoned the blonde girl, JJ stood underneath the grove of trees by the dunes, smoking. The hardcore stoners usually hung out in the grove during Boneyard parties, not really participating in the action. But the spot had a great view, and he could see the shadows of his friends every now and again: John B and Sarah still serving from their places at the keg, Pope and Kie colliding and then separating again, dancing together and making out and then going off to wage conversational wars on unsuspecting Tourons. JJ felt himself breath out a cloud of smoke in relief when he saw Liz ditch Adam for Kie. And he even had a smile on his face when Billie Eilish came on and Liz climbed the old table. He wanted to take his eyes off of her, but he still couldn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spinning around, moving her hips, hands all over the skin he had once kissed. It was strange to think how long they had been in each other’s lives, how well they knew each other. Sometimes, he swore, they were two sides of the same coin. But, then, he knew he would likely feel that way less and less as time went on. They had been the closest they would ever be, and now, there was only growing apart left. How much time did he really have with her? Would he see her ever again after graduation? At that thought of the future, he had to stop himself. It was too heavy for a Boneyard party. Usually, he only let his mind wander there when he and Liz were alone and high and she would be there to calm him down, tell him they would be together on the island living their fancy, adult lives. And eventually, she would say, they’d go full Kook. Get matching Rolls Royces. That was then. And he wondered if he’d ever be brave enough to broach the subject with her again, see just how much her plans had changed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took another long drag off his cart to clear his mind, his gaze still on her. The song was almost over, and after Liz got off the table, he told himself, he would go find Pope. Maybe convince his friend to get into some trouble with him. It was a party, after all. Everyone would expect something crazy from JJ Maybank. For maybe the first time, though, he wasn’t in the partying mood. He put his cart back in the pocket of his shorts, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He tried to psych himself up. But when he looked up to see Liz again, he saw the hand on her leg, inching up beneath her skirt. He saw who the hand belonged to not a second later. JJ didn’t want to run over. He didn’t want to do what he did. He already knew just how pissed Liz would be at him for clocking the guy she had just been macking on. But once he saw Adam pull her down, once he saw her fall hard on her ass on the rickety table, too drunk to fight him off, shouting at him to stop, it was over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At once, JJ’s entire body felt like it was on fire. His hands were already clenching into fists as he rushed back down the beach and over to the picnic table. He didn’t care who he was pushing past as he made his way through the crowd. His anger increased tenfold when he got close enough to see Adam trying to kiss her. And he heard her yell for him to stop again. Her face was twisted with displeasure and she was doing her best to keep him away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get off her!” JJ shouted, shoving Adam hard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s your problem, Pogue?” Adam screamed back, shocked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fucking touch her if she doesn’t want you to, man!” JJ yelled, pointing at Liz. He caught a glimpse at her in the commotion, trying to focus her eyes and hugging her arms over her chest defensively. She was really fucking out of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Adam was already advancing on him again. He landed a punch to JJ’s jaw before JJ could do anything to stop him. After that, all bets were off. JJ couldn’t believe the guy’s nerve, touching his drunk best friend, punching him when he stepped in to diffuse the situation. Then again, JJ didn’t believe he had successfully diffused anything in his entire life. JJ clocked Adam back, and used so much force the Touron was on the ground in an instant. Adam’s breath came out with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>whoosh</span>
  </em>
  <span> as his back landed flat against the sand. JJ launched on top of him, landing a few more hits on the boy before he felt himself being pulled back, by Kie, Pope, and John B all at once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bystanders were shouting encouragements and obscenities alike, but JJ could barely hear them. He could barely hear the rest of his friends shouting for him to stop, asking him what had happened. His entire head was buzzing like he had spent hours listening to his earbuds at maximum volume. After he got the other Pogues to release him, he looked over to find Liz already shoving her way back through the crowd. He didn’t explain to the others what had happened; there would be time enough at the Chateau later. No, instead he followed Liz, leaving the dazed Touron on the sand with a busted lip and bruised cheeks, other Touron boys swarming around him in alarm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lizzie, wait!” JJ called as he approached. She was still a bit ahead of him, walking fast but stumbling. He could see her skirt blowing around her knees in the beach breeze. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>off</span>
  </em>
  <span>, JJ,” she retorted, slurring her words and not looking back at him. She would have tried to go faster if she wasn’t certain she would fall over. Finally, the noise of the party was beginning to dissipate, the further down the sand she walked. If she kept on long enough, she would make it to the Chateau, at least. But JJ stopped her before that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he reached her, out of breath from the fight and the run to catch up, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder in an attempt to get her to face him. She flinched away. He could smell the alcoholic scent wafting off of her, and he wondered just how much she had had to drink. It may have been the drunkest he had ever seen her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, please, I’m sorry,” he continued, rambling as he followed her. “I saw what he did, and you’re so drunk! I’m sorry! I didn’t think about it, I swear I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, she spun around with a scowl on her face. She looked like she was about to let him have it. But then, her mouth shut and she swallowed thickly. He furrowed his brows, confused, as her expression changed. He couldn't see her skin draining of color and turning slightly green in the low light.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“JJ, I-” she began hesitantly, then pitched to the side and began gagging. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whoa!” JJ exclaimed, eyes widening. He did his best to get her hair away from her face, holding it back. With his free hand, he rubbed her back, despite the throbbing in his bloody knuckles. She tried to push him away weakly, but stopped after a moment, when she knew there was no way he was going anywhere. He offered an endless stream of babbling as she vomited, hoping to calm her down with his voice as he was once able to. “Hey, alright, you’re okay. Just get it up, hot stuff. You’ll feel better after.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once, she straightened and wiped her mouth, struggling to catch her breath. She sniffled, her nose running and tears beginning to leak down her cheeks involuntarily. JJ was about to ask if she was alright, but then she braced herself on with her hands on her thighs again, retching.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey!</span>
  </em>
  <span> You’re not done!” he chirped, smoothing a hand over her back once more. “It’s okay. You’re fine. You’re alright.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, after a couple more bouts of vomiting and lurches of her stomach, she decided she was finished. Standing up straight, she spat into the sand next to the mess and ran her hands down her face, wiping at her damp cheeks. She hated throwing up, always had. Almost to a phobia level. Just the cherry on top of one of the shittiest keggers she’d ever been to. When she ventured a glance back up at JJ, grimacing at the taste in her mouth and blushing furiously, she was startled by the look on his face. His bright blue eyes were alight with concern so complete it was staggering. But she’d seen that look on his face before, when she was hurt or sick or sad. He was always there. He was there when she felt like she didn’t have a home. He was there. But not anymore. She’d made sure of that. The thought of it made her heart twist in her chest, and she looked away again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You feel any better?” he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder, but keeping a careful distance between them. The last time he’d seen her throw up, she’d cried for about an hour after because of how much she hated it. No telling what would come next.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She saw his hand out of the corner of her eye, the redness dripping from his knuckles. By the next morning, they would be scabbed and bruised, black and blue and purple. The sight made more tears well up in her eyes, growing glassy once again in the moonlight. They spilled over almost instantly, before she could stop them. Her heartbeat quickened and her drunken mind felt as though it was swirling. It was because of her, his hands looking that way. And, as much as she hated to admit it, it scared her. There had been such a deep, elemental terror in her as she watched the two of them fight, unable to do anything else, that it had nauseated her. It was all too much for her to handle, especially in her inebriated state. She began stomping forward again, not sure where she wanted to end up. But, away from JJ was a good start. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, whoa, don’t cry, Lizzie,” he began, stopping her again a little farther down the beach. His hand went to touch her shoulder again. He had a soft, reassuring smile on his face. “Let’s get you back to the Chateau and get you some water.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shook his hand off harshly and took a couple steps back. “JJ, look at your fucking hand!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He glanced down at it absently and hid it behind his back, as though it would make a difference. “It’s not-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly. Her breathing began to pick up. When she spoke, the words came out in labored, huffing, shaky breaths. “No, you just pounded that guy’s face in for me! I didn’t ask you to do that, JJ!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What was I supposed to-”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t fucking know!” she yelled, interrupting him. The sickly green color in her face was being replaced by a furious shade of scarlet. She raked her hands through her hair in frustration, tugging at the ends. “I don't know what you should’ve done! Just not that! I...I h-hate it when you fight!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, I’m-” he said, but cut himself off when he stepped forward and got a better look at her in the illumination of the streetlight they’d approached. He could see how her pupils were blown out, eyes glistening with tears, and the way her chest rose and fell with her ragged breaths. A thick shadow of recognition crossed his face and the quality of his voice changed entirely. “Okay, Lizzie, just take a deep breath.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once more, he went to place a hand softly on her arm and, once more, she recoiled back from him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“J-just don’t touch me!” she exclaimed, feeling more light-headed by the second. She tilted her head up at the sky, hoping the breeze would dry her eyes and she would find some kind of momentary peace if she wasn’t looking into the lion’s den of the beach, swarming with people and buzzing loudly with voices and music. The sky was a lush blanket of inky blue, dotted with scant stars, just beginning to appear as the night’s darkness deepened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, her chest burned and she felt herself continuing to lose control. Her hands began to tremble, and soon, her whole body was shaking. Her teeth chattered despite the balmy warmth in the air. Clenching and unclenching her fists, she was alarmed to find her hands had gone numb. She knew then, as she dug her nails into her palms but was unable to register the feeling, that it was too late. She was going to have a drunken panic attack in front of JJ only a few days after they’d broken up, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Swallowing dryly, she raked her hands through her hair once more, finding it slightly greasy, and took another few steps back. Eventually, her back hit the worn wood of an old tree, and she sank down into the sand against it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ had followed, uneasy and frightened. She’d never told him not to touch her before, especially not during a panic attack. Usually, touch was the only thing that could calm her down. Now, he didn’t know what to do. He paced in front of her, listening to her wheezy breathing, which seemed so loud to him over the noise of the party. After a few moments of consideration, and a couple times when he almost said fuck it and went to wrap her up in his arms, he tried to gather himself. His freaking out would only make it worse, he knew. He knew from the first time he had seen her in such a state, right after her father had died, when it was just the two of them at the Chateau. JJ had almost called an ambulance. Since then, he’d discovered unfailing ways to help. Little tricks shared privately between them in her worst moments. But given the recent shift between them, he found himself back at square one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He squatted down, a few feet from her. Though calm was never his strong suit, he did his best to keep his voice even and strong. “Okay, Lizzie, can you look at me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shook her head and managed a breathless: “Fuck you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ noticed how hard she was biting at her lip. Tears rolled steadily, silently, down her flushed cheeks. Still, her eyes were directed at the sky. At first, she had found the look of the stars almost comforting. But then, her thoughts turned on her, as they often did. As she continued to stare up at the sky, she felt small and insignificant and suffocated by the sheer amount of people and problems in the world. Worse yet, she felt guilty for panicking, when her problems seemed so miniscule in scale. She only breathed harder. Her vision blurred from the tears in her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Worry rising in his throat, JJ persisted. “Hey, you’re safe right now, m’kay? Just breathe for me. What do you need?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time, she couldn’t even growl out an insult. She only shook her head, more vehemently. Sweat shone in a thin sheen on her forehead, though she still shivered violently. Despite the tree against her back, she felt disconnected. There was nothing grounding her, especially not the vast sky above. Before she could gulp in enough breath to respond to JJ again, she vaguely saw him look back over his shoulder at someone. She was so far away from them, she felt like she was hearing their words underwater. But eventually she recognized that the rest of her friends had come over, gathering around. Sarah had a troubled look in her eyes, and Liz was able to gather John B, Kie, and Pope had gone to find her before following her and JJ. Apparently the entire group was needed to witness the aftermath of a fight. The thought of the Kook princess seeing her in such a state made Liz even more frustrated with herself, which did nothing with the feeling of suffocation in her chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ noticed how her breathing quickened, as the rest of them formed a rough circle of concern. He waved them back with one quick hand gesture. “Give her some space, guys!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go...fuck yourself, M-maybank,” she spat back in a harsh exclamation, rough with breahtlessness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus! What’s the matter with her?!” John B asked, instantly terrified. He’d never seen Liz look so helpless in her entire life. And the sound of her labored breathing was something he thought he may never get out of his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s having a panic attack, dude. Just give her a minute,” JJ said, not looking back at the others. He kept his gaze on Liz. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“JJ, you idiot!” Kie shouted, slurring her words a bit. “She fucking hates it when you guys fight!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know that, Kiara. I’m sorry if I made a poor snap decision,” JJ replied with a bite in his voice. “I might add that Adam dick had his hands all over her when she told him ‘no,’ but right now that doesn’t matter, does it? And right now, yelling isn’t gonna help either!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kie raised her eyebrows and looked a bit shocked. Usually, JJ was the one receiving the lecture, rather than giving it. That was all it took for her to realize how upset he was too. With furrowed brows, Pope stepped away from Kie and toward JJ, where he was still kneeling down near Liz. Still, she hadn’t looked down from the sky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Has she had one of these before?” Pope asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. But it hasn’t been this bad in a long time, man,” JJ said frantically, running his hands through his hair. “Usually...it’s not...she said she didn’t want me to touch her and now I don’t know what the fuck to do!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Next to John B, Sarah felt her eyes water. She squeezed John B’s hand and fought her empath’s tears. Granted, she and Liz weren’t exactly close, but she had never seen Liz utter more than an angry swear after stubbing her toe. Liz barely flinched. At anything. She had never seen Liz in real pain before. Frankly, it scared her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pope approached Liz hesitantly. She didn’t cast him a glance, didn’t acknowledge him in any way. Swiftly and gently, he placed two fingers to the inside of one wrist to feel her pulse. When she realized what was happening, she shoved him off, but not before he felt how fast it was. Based on the way her eyes looked, they were dangerously close rolling up in the back of her head. She was going to pass out if they didn’t get her breathing to slow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t take her pulse, man!” JJ chided, still squatting in his spot. “Help her!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do you suggest I do that?” Pope shot back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sighing heavily, JJ ran an anxious hand through his hair again. “Breathe in for ten, out for ten. Get her to do it with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pope looked from JJ to Liz, who had yet to make any progress in calming down, then back to JJ again. “How am I supposed to get her to do that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I usually put her hands on my chest but she doesn’t want anyone to touch her...I don’t know! You’re the doctor here!” JJ said, increasingly exasperated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Forensic pathologist,” Pope corrected absently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck! Whatever! Just do something!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ watched in earnest as Pope got close to Liz again. He kneeled down in the sand in front of her, giving her personal space still, but not as far away as JJ. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Liz, listen to me, you’re gonna pass out soon if you don’t get your breathing to even out. I don’t want that and I bet you don’t want that either. Just please try to breathe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, y-yeah,” she sassed, seeing black spots in her field of vision, swimming with the stars above. “Super fucking easy, Einstein.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pope sighed. He was beginning to understand JJ’s frustration. He’d had his own anxious moments before, his own panic attacks. But, everyone was different. And, like all the other Pogues except JJ, he had never seen her in the midst of one before. Given her usually serene, if stony, demeanor, he was a little surprised she was afflicted with them too, to say the least.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, Liz, you have to calm down,” he continued.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In for ten, our for ten, man!” JJ whispered in exasperation from behind Pope.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, right,” Pope nodded, trying to act less frazzled. “Okay, Liz. I’m gonna breathe in for ten seconds, and then out for ten seconds. Try to do it with me. That should get your heart rate to slow down.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz swallowed heavily and said nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shutting her eyes might help too,” JJ said, quietly, so only Pope could hear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And if you shut your eyes, that would be good,” Pope repeated. Then, he pointed to Kie, who also had tear tracks down her cheeks upon seeing her friend’s distress. “Kie! Count the seconds while I breathe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took a minute for Kiara to focus her glazed eyes on Pope, but then she gave a hum of confirmation. Pope took in a long, loud breath and Kie counted to ten. Exhaling, they continued the pattern. Clenching her hands into fists again, Liz let the sound of Kie’s voice guide her. It took a couple tries for her to even get air in, but finally she did. Once she got in a few good gulps of oxygen, she squeezed her eyes shut and found herself being able to focus more. It took all her effort to get the circling thoughts of JJ’s bloody hand on her shoulder, and the touron’s tanned hand on her thigh, out of her mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, after a long few minutes of tense silence, filled only with loud breathing, Liz nodded to herself. She faced everyone again, who were looking on with such overwhelming kindness. When her eyes met JJ’s, he gave her a soft smile of reassurance and a joking wink. The sight made fondness warm her core, but she shook it off and looked away almost instantly. Sniffling and wiping the wetness from her cheeks, she cleared her throat and began to stand up. She balanced with her back against the tree, not yet completely sure of herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay, guys. I’m just drunk,” she said, with no emotion and avoiding eye contact. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John B furrowed his brows and cast a glance over his shoulder at the party, which was winding down but still had a good couple hours before it would be truly over. “I can go break it up. Then, we’ll load up the stuff and go home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare shut down a kegger on my account, John,” she said with an attempt at an amused scoff. “It’s not a big deal. I’m okay now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one smiled. She stared down at her feet in the sand, wishing for her shoes, wishing to hop on her bike and ride all the way off the island. Under their scrutinizing, worried eyes, she felt incredibly small. She crossed her arms tightly. There was still a slight slur to her words, partially from the alcohol and partially from fatigue. Panic attacks practically drained all the energy from her being. But vomiting had sobered her up a good amount. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Liz, are you sure you want to go back out there after…” Pope began, trailing off awkwardly, unsure if broaching the uncomfortable subject of the past twenty minutes was such a smart idea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sighing through her nose, she fiddled nervously with one of her earrings. “I can just walk my bike back home. Don’t worry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No way,” JJ piped up, unable to keep his mouth shut. “You’re drunk. You’re not walking home alone. And you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> letting your mom see you like this. She’ll freak.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, will she?” Liz mocked him sullenly. Then, she met his eyes again, shaking her head at him the tiniest bit. She didn’t want to hear it, not from him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ’s jaw clenched. She was pissed. Really pissed. That was not good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again, John B spoke up, the sober voice of reason. He wasn’t the best with emotions, but Liz could always count on him to diffuse a serious situation with his delegation. “Pope, why don’t you take Liz and Kie back to my house for now? We can regroup when we all get back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good idea,” Pope agreed, going back over to Kie, who looked sleepy and near blacking out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz rolled her eyes. “Fuck off. You think we need a man to walk us back and protect us and shit?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John B gave a thin-lipped smile in response to the drunken accusation. “No, you need someone sober to make sure you don’t get hit by a car.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Narrowing her eyes, Liz glared at him for a minute longer. Then, she uttered a frustrated scoff, unable to argue with him. Before anyone else could speak again, she turned and began sulking through the stoners’ grove of trees in the direction of the road. Pope grunted in annoyed surprise, then took Kie by the hand and followed Liz, sharing an uneasy look with John B in the process. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.   .   .</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An exhausted pulse throbbed behind her eyes, but Liz was still buzzed on the way back. Silently, she watched her feet. Pine needles crunched under her sandals, and she only looked up at Kie’s occasional interjections. Kie had hooked her arm with Liz’s, in both an attempt to comfort her and use her tall form for support. The gesture was nice, but having Kie hanging on her made it a little harder for Liz to walk her bike as well. But it still made her feel a bit better. The air smelled of salt and red North Carolina dirt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would your mom really freak if she saw you drunk?” Pope asked hesitantly from Kie’s other side. Liz seemed considerably more coherent as the seconds ticked on. Ever the problem-solver, Pope couldn’t resist bringing up the recent strangeness yet again, sensing another shift in the direction of the tide.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz shrugged. “Who fucking knows. It’s a toss-up. Either she doesn’t give a fuck what I’m doing, or she’s on my case about everything. Lately, she’s mad I’m not spending enough time with her. Says I’m leaving her just like everyone else did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pope raised his eyebrows as she spoke. She was flippant and guarded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like...your dad?” he asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz chuckled humorlessly and flashed Pope an irreverent smirk over Kie’s head. “Among others.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Pope said, carefully deciding how to follow up. Liz beat him to it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t seen her in a while. She’s...unpredictable since everything with my dad. But I think she’s making progress,” she said, looking at the road ahead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After the next bend in the cracked, crumbling pavement, they would be back at the Chateau. She already knew she would be sleeping in the hammock on the porch, unable to face JJ’s bedroom. Given how out of it Kie seemed, Liz doubted she and Pope would end up making back to her house, after all. They would be sprawled on the pullout within the next half hour. But Liz also knew JJ had been right when he said going back to her own house was a bad idea. Dora Walker oscillated between casual disinterest in her daughter’s partying and near Prohibition-era rage over such antics. It was better not to risk it. And it was better that Liz wouldn’t have to face the disappointing reality of her home, where her mother certainly was not making progress of any kind despite what she told Pope, when she was drunk, fresh off throwing up and having a panic attack in front of all her friends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that what’s up with you and JJ?” Pope asked, trying to crack the case. “Did he say something about your mom?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz sighed. “I really don’t wanna talk about it, Pope.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know he’s in love with you, right?” Pope continued, his words reinforced by Kiara’s noises of agreement. “Everyone can tell. I know he’s a dumbass, but he’s just trying to help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trust me. JJ’s not in love with me,” Liz replied coolly, with a level of practical confidence that surprised Pope.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, yeah he is,” Kie said as though she were stating a fact, eyes widening with gravity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s a total simp for you,” Pope said. “Always has been.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Liz muttered, shaking her head again. “Even if he is, it doesn’t matter.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But-” Pope began.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t wanna fucking talk about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pursing his lips, Pope nodded and decided to drop the subject. Though she hadn’t said the words with any aggression, he had been friends with her for long enough to know when to back off. Quietly seething was her specialty under the right circumstances. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you still gonna have to meet with the college counselor when we go back to school? Or is your recommendation done already?” Liz asked, changing the subject as seamlessly as she could.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She got them submitted last week,” Pope said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a knowing smile, Liz nodded. “Yeah, I bet when they saw it was for Pope Heyward they rushed it through. They want you out there working your magic as soon as possible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pope laughed half-heartedly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m serious,” Liz said. “You’re the one who’s gonna get outta here, Pope. Leave us in the dust. Make the pogues proud, y’know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll see,” he said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His voice held a sincerity Liz wasn’t expecting. She watched as Pope looked down at Kiara, and his eyes shone with a bittersweet affection. The island was all any of them had ever known; it was hard to imagine any of them living anywhere else. And her heart broke a little for Pope. As suffocating as it was to know she’d be spending the foreseeable future in the place where she’d always been, she hadn’t considered how scary the journey Pope would soon embark on was. Without envy clouding her vision, in her slightly hazy state of mind, she could recognize the anxiety he must have been experiencing over the inevitable. Before he and Kie had started dating, he seemed to be managing the thought of leaving decently well. But now he was in love with her. Every single moment Pope spent with Kie undoubtedly had a shadow over it, a time limit. Love made everything harder, no matter the situation, or so it seemed to Liz at that moment. Instead of offering any more encouragement, she smiled softly at him, and the final minutes of the walk were spent in a calm, noiseless lull. The late hours of the night melted into early morning without any of them noticing the time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.   .   .</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her nose filled with the dull, slightly metallic smell of the Chateau sink water as she washed the oily sheen and leftover makeup off her face. Liz stared at her reflection for a moment in the steamy mirror. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked a bit paler than usual, but she decided the vision before her wasn’t totally conspicuous. She could probably get past her mother with little to no fallout, other than an irritating, unwarranted angry lecture. But she’d pretty much gotten used to the overbearing routine at that point. She tucked the loose strands of hair, fallen from her low ponytail, behind her ears and cleared her throat quietly as she left the bathroom. The living room awash with dim, whitish sunlight and Kie snored softly as she slept next to Pope on the pullout couch. They hadn’t made it back to Kie’s part of town, after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz scoffed almost silently at the sight, padding across the floor barefoot. Her sandals hung from her right hand. She scurried to the side door of the kitchen as quietly as she could. Despite being drunker than usual, she could still remember virtually all the events of the previous night. She couldn’t bring herself to relive the memory of her panic attack, as she was already mortified. It was better to go back home and wait for her perpetual blush of embarrassment to cool down a bit before she faced the five of them in the harsh light of daytime once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The old wooden floor was creaky, but not comically so. Liz still startled in surprise at the sound of JJ opening the cereal cabinet, cutting through the silence. She let out a tiny gasp and turned around to see him standing shirtless in the small kitchen. She wanted to roll her eyes at herself for her jumpiness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” she said softly, raising one eyebrow as she checked to make sure she hadn’t awoken Pope or Kie. They were still out cold.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” he said, looking up at her anxiously as he poured his cereal. “JB and Sarah went to get some more breakfast stuff.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Okay.” Her eyes avoided his injuries, swollen knuckles and a bruised jaw. Liz could only imagine what Adam looked like in the aftermath of the fight. JJ’s rings were known to do some damage. In other moments, their smooth metal had cooled her fevered skin, his hands cradling her cheeks. She pushed the memory away. “I left my work apron at my house. And I’m doing the lunch shift in a couple hours, so…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, yeah, okay,” he said plainly, nodding at her. “So...are you doing okay after last night?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smirked humorlessly. “I probably feel about as good as your fucking hands do. But we don’t have to talk about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” he pressed, eating small handfuls of dry cereal from his bowl. “I just...I haven’t seen you panic that bad in a long time. And I know me getting into it with that Adam douchebag freaked you out, but...was that really it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snorting a laugh, Liz shook her head and looked down at the floor for a moment before casting her glance back up at him. She didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of him, let him see inside her head. The last time she had been open with JJ hadn’t ended up particularly well, to say the least.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have to talk about it, JJ. You don’t have to worry about it. You’re not my boyfriend,” she said with a tight-lipped smile and a shrug, before turning on her heel and walking out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She slammed the kitchen’s side door behind her a little more loudly than she meant to as she went. And JJ did not follow her. He didn’t care to relive what had happened the last time he followed her.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought! Feedback nourishes my soul.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. hear my stolen lullabies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Twice, Liz finds solace at the Chateau during a difficult time.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: mentions of parent death and suicide, drug use, emotional/verbal abuse, yelling, PLEASE proceed with caution, smoking</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>March 13, 2019</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fiddling with her earring, Liz stared down at her feet as her mother rambled on. Her mother wasn’t exactly screaming, but she was definitely yelling. About how Liz needed to help out more around the house, about how she shouldn’t abandon her mother like her sisters had, about how there was nothing nice left about life. To say it was less than uplifting was an understatement. Liz was beginning to taste blood as she gnawed on her lower lip. After a couple years dealing with her mother’s rage, or her teary outbursts, she had gotten used to tuning it out. Or, at least, trying to. Sometimes, though, it was too loud, too painful, too overwhelming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re always so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean to me, Elizabeth!” Ruth Walker exclaimed, hands at her sides in exaggeration. “Why can’t you just comfort me? That’s what I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Comfort you, mom?!” Liz yelled back, finally looking up and tilting her head at her mother. “Jesus, I’ve been comforting you everyday since dad died! Every single fucking day!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Excuse me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Ruth asked, raising her eyebrows. “I’m the mother, and you’re the child! You don’t swear at me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scoffing slightly, Liz shook her head. With her mother staring back at her, brown eyes furious and dark, brows furrowed, Liz couldn’t stomach her anger. As much as she tried to stamp it down, she usually ended with her own tirade creeping up her throat. And the worst part was, she was always wondering if she would one day end up screaming at her own daughter. Full of hypocrisy and bitterness, her life lived entirely different than she wanted. Ruth Walker wasn’t to blame for the way things had turned out, and that Liz scared more than she cared to admit. Her gut churned with anxiety and adrenaline, and she continued despite her better judgement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I’m the child, Mom, why am I the one sleeping in your bed to help you with your nightmares? Why am I the one picking up the milk and the eggs and the bread? And spending every minute of every damn day worrying about you ending up exactly like Dad?” she wagered, pulling out the big guns. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew there was no use. They fought about the same things a thousand times over, and neither of them ever changed a bit. But at least letting off some steam might help in the short-term. Liz’s voice was getting louder, and her face redder, as she stood across from her mother in the dingy kitchen. All Liz had wanted was to get a snack to celebrate finishing her essay. Instead, it was an ambush over the leftovers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I lost my husband! My life is...my </span>
  <em>
    <span>future </span>
  </em>
  <span>is ruined!” Ruth screamed, crying through her words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knew how insensitive it was, but Liz rolled her eyes. She couldn’t help herself. “Jesus, I know! You think I don’t know that? Your life isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>ruined</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Mom! You’re not the one who died!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes it feels like it,” her mother said, still angry but beginning to deflate. Her energy was waning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz scoffed, feeling completely impatient. Each time they reached this point in the conversation, when her mother would begin to wallow and struggle through her words, Liz would have to sigh, and apologize, and suggest her mother finally go to therapy. The island’s pharmacist, who had once been a therapist, had offered to help the family in the wake of Liz’s father’s suicide. Out of all five Walker women, only Liz had taken him up on the offer. Though she’d only been able to handle about one session a month, Liz was still going. And she knew it helped. But her mother refused to help herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, sometimes it </span>
  <em>
    <span>seems</span>
  </em>
  <span> like it, too,” Liz muttered, so utterly frustrated she found her filter (which was not particularly strong to begin with) to be totally gone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her mother swallowed thickly, but didn’t say a word in response. She only gaped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Feeling her stomach flip once again, whether due to general anxiety or disgust with herself she didn’t know, Liz turned around and looked out the kitchen window. Bracing herself with her palms on the sink, she looked at the ring stand on the windowsill. On it, her mother’s diamond engagement ring. She had to avert her eyes from it. Before, the ring had been precious, always on her mother’s finger. But Ruth had taken it off after hearing of her husband’s death, and it had sat on the windowsill ever since. Ruth valued it now about as much as a piece of gravel. Liz uttered a harsh, humorless chuckle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What an asshole. It wouldn’t be like this if he was still here,” Liz said. “I hate him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ruth’s jaw clenched as Liz turned back to her. “Don’t talk about your father like that!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop defending him! He fucking lied to us! He was supposed to be there for us...a-and take c-care of us!” Liz argued. “And then he just left! Real fathers don’t do that! At least not the ones who loved their kids!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> you!” her mother screamed in response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz recoiled, grey eyes darkening to storms. She gave a thin smile, devoid of joy, and then began to push past her mother. “Yeah, well, fuck you, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grabbed her bag and tugged on her shoes, then rushed out the front door in the direction of her bike. Ruth stood motionless in the kitchen, watching through the screen door as her daughter rode away. The evening was clouded over and gloomy, the air just beginning to warm with spring. But an involuntary tremble rolled through Ruth’s body as though it were winter. And, when her daughter was gone, she let out a sob. Then, she collapsed in on herself and began to weep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.   .   .</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A violent shiver made goosebumps rise on Liz’s skin as she finally made it to the Chateau, but her cheeks were flushed hot with adrenaline. The daylight was nearly gone, the sky a cold purple-pink, as she leaned her bike up against the tree out front. The air was filled with spring freshness, but it was chilly. The gray cardigan she wore was proving to be a lifesaver. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stomped up and onto the front porch. She could smell the familiar scent of burnt toast (a telltale sign JJ had tried to cook something, which never ended well) as she approached. And she stopped in her tracks when she saw JJ in the hammock, scrolling absently through his phone. He was freshly showered, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, hair damp. He looked up when her footsteps halted, eyebrows raised and expectant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, red. What’s going on?” he asked, not quite concerned, but certainly not indifferent either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was Thursday night, and everyone was busy. Sarah and John B were out getting dinner somewhere on the Figure Eight. Pope was working on scholarship applications. Kie was doing a shift at The Wreck. JJ himself had only gotten off of work an hour earlier, sore from an afternoon spent mowing Kook lawns. Liz had texted in their group chat saying she had a big paper to write, which would probably take her until the sun rose the next morning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz blew out a long breath, feeling the tense energy begin to leave her system. She didn’t feel like crying, though. Not exactly. Instead, she felt used up. Trying her hardest wasn’t working. Wringing her hands together, she felt how dry her skin was. She’d been washing her hands too much, using scalding water, despite the harshness of the early spring cold. The breeze was still parched and unyielding. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself. The habits came and went, ones she felt like needed to be done or else the world would end. They had existed before her father’s death, and she had always been what her mother called ‘a nervous little girl,’ but things had definitely gotten worse in the past couple of years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just…” she began tiredly. Pausing, she sighed and took a seat on the couch, facing him. “I got in a f-fight with my mom.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he said plainly, nodding. And she could tell he understood. He’d spent probably countless hours listening to her vent about her family’s issues. Just as she had spent hours hearing about JJ’s father. They had developed a pretty symbiotic system. “What was it about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She ran a hand over her face, narrowly avoiding her eyes, the makeup from the school day she had yet to wash off. Then, she shrugged. “I don’t know. The same shit, I guess. I told her...it seemed like she was dead now too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ hummed, nodding as he furrowed his brows. He put his phone down on the floor next to the hammock, forgotten. He waited for her to continue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean...I guess I meant it. I know that...I know her worst fears came true. I know that. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she said, her knee bobbing up and down. The fingers of one hand drummed against her thigh. “I’m just so sick of all this. This would all be so much easier if he had just like...gotten into a car accident or had a brain aneurysm or something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He noticed her fidgeting, and he didn’t know whether it was because she was still so keyed up from the fight or if she was just cold. “Probably,” he agreed quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She barely cast him a glance before she continued. “I mean, what was the point in having the funeral, and saying goodbye and all that bullshit, if we were still gonna fight about him and think about him every damn day? It’s like...everything is different except for that one thing. He’s the dead one and he’s like...the only thing left.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shaking her head at herself, not even understanding her own words, she clenched her jaw. Looking out into the yard, she could vaguely see the chickens walking around behind the wire of the coop. The chipped red paint of her bike shone dully in the glow of the sunset. Above the bike, the tire swing Big John had put up years earlier still swung, weathered with age. Liz wondered if John B ever felt like she did. Home was still home, but it would also never be home again. Her house felt more like a mausoleum to her than anything else. The life she had lived before was never coming back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She kick you out again?” JJ asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not really,” Liz said. “But I probably shouldn’t go back tonight. I said ‘fuck you’ to her. Like, literally.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ raised his eyebrows in surprise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she said, reading his expression. “But only because she said it to me first. I don’t think I’m ready for round two yet. I’ll take the pullout or something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You want something to take the edge off?” JJ asked, taking his weed pen from his breast pocket and holding it out to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She waved her hand dismissively and shook her head again. “No thanks. I just...Jesus I hate this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Huffing out a frustrated breath, she got up and slipped through the screen door, into the Chateau. JJ wasn’t surprised a minute later when she reemerged with a battered acoustic guitar in her hands. It had been her father’s in his teen years, and she had been playing since before JJ even met her, when the instrument’s body dwarfed her own and her child’s hands could hardly fit around the neck. She didn’t practice everyday or anything, but could still play songs around the campfire or when the restless energy invaded her body and she needed an outlet for it. Without another word, she began softly strumming out a folk song JJ could almost recognize, but couldn’t remember the name of.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How was your day?” she asked after a moment, eyes not even on the guitar as she played. It had become a distraction, rather than a passion, since her father had died. Playing it would always be linked with him in her mind. Sometimes, it made her angry that he had ruined yet another thing from the grave. But sometimes, she could tolerate the memories enough to enjoy it again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean since you saw me like four hours ago?” JJ asked, smirking lightly. Most days, John B drove them both home in the Twinkie, along with Pope. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nodded, smiling just a little. “Yeah. I’m sure it’s been really exciting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah,” JJ said emphatically. “Honestly, it was a pretty life-changing afternoon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Enlighten me,” Liz said, tilting her head at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, let’s see. I went to the Eight to mow the Westerfields’ lawn. But their kid wouldn’t quit trying to help, so I had to make the lawn mower noises while he used his toy one, and he tired out eventually. Added like two extra hours,” JJ said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Smiling fondly, Liz nodded for him to continue. A light breeze passed by, blowing her bangs away from her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s pretty cute, though. And his mom let me in the house to wash up this time. I got this sick utility tool from the garage when she wasn’t looking,” he said, grin growing with excitement. From the same pocket which housed his pen, he produced a shiny red utility tool, complete with a knife, a screwdriver, and a bottle opener.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughed. “What the fuck do you need that for, Maybank?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Remember on New Year’s when we couldn’t find the corkscrew so you had to open that wine with a screw and a hammer?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One of my proudest moments.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, next time, we’ll have an extra,” JJ said, putting the tool back. “And I gotta say, I think we should add that house to our list.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really? It’s the yellowish one with the hedges in the front, right?” Liz asked, still plucking at her guitar strings.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Since they were kids, they had been considering which houses to move into when they went full Kook. The ‘list’ had never been written down, instead existing as more of a living document in both their minds. There were a few properties on the Eight that were serious contenders, known by the families that lived in them: the Westerfields, the Kitteridges, even the Camerons. Liz was always coming back to the Petries’ place, with the cobblestone path and the tiny pond in the backyard. JJ was partial to the old McKinnon place, with the pristine lawn and the well-kempt dock out back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The inside is kickass,” JJ continued. “Like, a TV in every room.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, it’s officially added,” Liz said with finality and a little smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before she could continue, she saw JJ yawn into his fist. She noticed the tired glaze in his blue eyes and felt a little bit guilty. She had come over after a long day and bombarded him with all her family shit. She wanted to reciprocate, ask about how things were with his dad and why he hadn’t been back home for at least a week, but she bit her tongue. After so many years knowing JJ, she had learned that he wasn’t going to talk about his family until he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She began to play “Polly,” not really singing but humming lowly along with the tune. JJ listened, rocking the hammock slightly. They shared a love for Kurt Cobain, and he always liked it when she played Nirvana for him. Even if he was more partial to the screamo electric songs than their acoustic numbers. As Liz expected, JJ was struggling to keep his eyes open by the time she finished. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You falling asleep, sunshine?” she asked softly, putting her guitar aside. She would have to make sure she placed it back in the corner of the Chateau’s living room when they went to turn in for the night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” he said, clearing his throat and blinking harshly a couple times. “Are you kidding? It’s only like eight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shrugged. “You can rest if you want to, JJ. It’s just me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You cold?” he asked, eyes lingering on her hands. They were still a bit shaky, even after she played guitar. Usually, that was enough to make the angry trembling subside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t change the subject.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Answer the question.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a stubborn sigh, she relented. “I mean, a little bit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes. She was always trying to put on a brave face, even over something as small as being cold. Even in front of him. “Yeah, a ‘little bit.’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>. C’mon, tough girl, you can steal some of my body heat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She snorted a laugh as he opened his arms and gestured for her to come lay down with him. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her cheeks warmed marginally, but he didn’t mention it if he noticed she was blushing. They were touchy with each other. All the Pogues were. But she and JJ had always been a bit more. Lately, it was getting under her skin, in a good way or a bad way she didn’t know. Each time she felt herself crushing, she reminded herself of the perfect, toned Tourons JJ always brought home after a Kegger. She reminded herself that they had known each other forever, and she shouldn’t ruin anything over a silly, fleeting feeling. Recently, though, there hadn’t been as many girls taken home. And there had been lingering looks and moments between the two of them. But Liz figured she was only imagining it. Otherwise, what was it? The whole thing was too confusing to manage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she was cold and he was tired. She didn’t feel up to navigating her thoughts on the subject, so she pushed them out of her mind. And one of the comfiest quilts ever to exist was draped over the back of the couch, too tempting to resist. She grabbed it and then kicked off her shoes before she went over to the hammock. She plopped down next to him, taking a moment to cover the two of them with the blanket and settle in. He winced slightly as her elbow grazed his ribcage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, sunshine. Are you okay?” she asked, instantly concerned, noticing as he hissed in quiet pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, red,” he said, nodding. “Just got a little too sloppy at the Boneyard last weekend. I fell down on the damn dock. Totally knocked the wind out of me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to move? You need to tell me if I’m hurting you,” she continued, a hand placed softly on his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not,” he replied. “I promise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He wrapped his arms around her and brought her head to his shoulder. It seemed to be enough to reassure her, and she let the subject drop. Or maybe she was saving it away for a discussion later on. One thing JJ had learned about Liz in knowing her: her memory was pretty damn close to photographic. She breathed out in content as she finally began to warm up, and her body relaxed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you finish your paper?” JJ asked, remembering what she should have been doing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It didn’t take me as long as I thought it would. There’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> too much to say about Virginia Woolf,” Liz explained, letting her legs slip between his, tangling them together. It was the closest they had been in a long time, and she could smell his Old Spice. “It actually ended up being like a page too long. I had to go back and cut it down.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good job, nerd,” he teased. English was the only class she regularly got As in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” she warned, looking up at him through her lashes and smirking a bit. “Just go to sleep, dick.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” he said playfully. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he pulled back, their eyes met again. Liz didn’t think much. She could only feel what she was doing as she was doing it, a bit surprised at herself. It was like her brain short circuited, flooded with butterflies, and she could only act on instinct. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“JJ?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, after a moment’s hesitation: “Can we kiss?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes softened. “‘Course we can, Lizzie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before she knew it, they were both leaning in. They kissed gently, slow. JJ’s lips were surprisingly soft, and he kept a small smile on his face as they separated, dimples on his cheeks. Liz’s brow crinkled. Had that really just happened? When they were both totally sober and not dreaming? She uttered a small hum, nodding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh,” she said. She had never kissed anyone before, besides Kie. Never a real kiss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ uttered a chuckle. “Yeah. Huh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Liz asked, a smile to match his own creeping onto her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm-hm. Are you alright?” JJ’s voice lilted with nervous, giggly apprehension.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, some sort of simple understanding passed between them, smiles still ghosting over their lips. Liz put her head back down on JJ’s shoulder, and his grip tightened on her just a touch. They fell asleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.   .   .</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>October 27, 2019 </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again, Liz was high as a kite by late afternoon. They sat smoking on the front porch of the Chateau after the midday dress burning, laughing at the mock sincerity of the ceremony. For once, Liz was happy and giggly in the presence of Sarah Cameron. JJ grinned widely at Liz opening up a bit. John B was always quick to accuse Liz of not liking Sarah, but JJ knew it was simply that she needed time to soften. Even with all her confidence, she was still shy. She didn’t like to show herself to people until she was positive she could trust them. JJ could definitely understand that. Leaning back against the couch, he threw his arm over the backrest. Liz, sitting beside him because she knew he would hog the bowl otherwise, tensed slightly. Looking around self-consciously, she didn’t think she saw anyone reacting to her flinch. Hopefully, they hadn’t noticed. The instinct to pull away from JJ was knee jerk. With a harsh swallow, she clenched her jaw and sat back slightly, trying to lean into it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yo, did you guys hear that new Billie Eilish single?” JJ asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I fucking loved it,” Liz said emphatically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John B snickered. “Well, damn, I never would have guessed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She flipped him off, rolling her eyes. “You’re a loser.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ditto, man,” John B replied, a smug smirk on his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz scoffed through a breathy chuckle. Weed made John B a bit of a condescending asshole, though sometimes in a charming way. Each time it was a toss-up. The day was slightly warmer than the one before, but she suspected it would likely be the last day the temperature was above fifty degrees. The thought of the season ahead made her grimace slightly. It was bad to begin the winter with a death. It was very bad. And, even amidst her group of friends enjoying each others’ company, she couldn’t help but feel far away from them. Distant. Alone. Maybe it was just the after-effects of her grandmother’s funeral the day before. She didn’t know. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She took the bowl back from JJ and inhaled a long breath. She coughed slightly as she let it out, listening to the others talk about something or other, maybe what Kyle McCormick had said to the calculus teacher the day before. She stared out into the front yard. When she was high, all her senses were amplified. The colors seemed brighter somehow. They seemed to move on their own, alive. The only thing close to the sensation that Liz could think of was reading Virginia Woolf. And even then, it was just the character who was experiencing it. Being mesmerized, really mesmerized, wasn’t an everyday thing. It felt like falling in love. She hadn’t felt it much since she and JJ broke up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She passed the bowl, filled with grayish ashes, back to JJ. They reminded her of her father’s ashes. They’d spread them in the ocean, out on a rental boat. She’d held them in her hands, felt the smooth, sooty fragments of teeth. The thought made her shut her eyes for a second. JJ furrowed his brows, watching her as he took his own drag, trying to get the dregs of smoke from the bowl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You okay, Lizzie?” he asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she said, rubbing at her eyes with the heels of her hands. Her cheeks were rosy from the autumn chill. “I just have a headache.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ frowned. He felt her forehead, then put the back of one hand to her cheek. He was relieved to feel the redness was from the chilly wind, not from fever. Every time she got sick, it was because she had been running herself ragged, not sleeping.  “Hm. You’re probably still tired from yesterday. You wanna go lay down?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clearing her throat, ridding it from the stray smoky feeling, she nodded. “Sure. I’ll take the pullout.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just take JJ’s bed again,” John B said lightly, catching snippets of the conversation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that alright?” she asked, tilting her head at JJ. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s the middle of the afternoon. I won’t be needing it for like eight more hours at least,” JJ answered, trying to pass the bowl to Pope.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pope waved a hand at the drug paraphernalia. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so tired if you hadn’t smoked, Liz.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz rolled her eyes as she got up from the couch. “Whatever, Doctor Spock.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re clouding your mental capacity,” Pope continued self-righteously. It didn’t annoy her as much as it once had, since she knew it came from a place of worry. After so long, she was able to shrug it off rather well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Liz retorted, more sincerely than Pope expected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shifted nervously, then turned to ask Kie something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.   .   .</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slats of sunlight shone on the bed through the gaps in the blinds, making the room feel impossibly cozy. Since Liz had slept in there the night before, she had made the bed. It wasn’t really a cleanliness issue. She could have a perfectly neat bed and then not cast a second glance at the piles of books and clothes, and papers in the case of her desk. It was more that if she didn’t make her bed everyday, it made her want to wash her hands more, with hotter water. It made her want to pick off her nail polish and gnaw on her bottom lip. But she found herself feeling totally content as she laid on the bed, atop the fuzzy throw and the smooth comforter, piles stacked properly behind her. She rested her head on her crossed arms, the sleeve of her worn cardigan soft against her cheek. Her sock feet were raised in the air, one calf crossed over the other. She thought about the morning, when she had woken up with JJ’s arm draped over her. It had been the first time she had anxiously made the bed in JJ’s room in a long time. It had been so familiar that it broke her heart a bit. It broke her heart more when JJ had excitedly begun preparing for the dress burning almost immediately after waking up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Over breakfast, he had enthusiastically gone over everyone’s duties to put together the “funeral for Lizzie’s funeral dress.” She smiled at him gratefully, but her heart wasn’t in it. She couldn’t reconcile the JJ who took care of her after tragedy with the one she had encountered on the last night in August. She thought about the feel of his hand on her waist, dancing with her in the Stoner’s Grove at a party, the warmth of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of her dress. They hadn't kissed, so they could explain it away if anyone asked. That had been before the invisible change had taken place. And she could feel it again where his hand had rested earlier in the day, when they had stood around a bonfire in the backyard, while the remains of her dress smoked in the air and then floated away. She had stared into the orangey flames, so strangely pure against the pristine blue of the October sky, until her eyes were hot and dry. JJ had placed an affectionate hand on her waist for only a moment, giving her hip a comforting squeeze. And she simply didn’t know what to do with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she decided to clear the thoughts of him from her head, running her fingers delicately over the soft throw blanket. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Touch</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought to herself. Touch was her favorite of the senses when she was high. Her feet were up near the head of the bed, her head at the bottom. She had often laid in the same position, feet up in the air, as a little girl. She and John B had made a habit of going out to the edge of the dock and looking down at their reflections in the water, sometimes with their heads leaning completely over the green murkiness below. It was the kind of childhood foolishness you could only see the error in with hindsight. She let herself get lost in the music which played from the bluetooth speaker on the desk. She had turned it down to a medium volume, hoping she could get one of her mellower playlists to lull her to sleep. But the sunshine was too beautiful to miss. She let it warm her back as she laid there, listening to the sound of The 1975’s “Be My Mistake.” Sometimes, it was too sad for her to stomach. When high, though, she could stand it enough to listen. She barely even welled up this time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The screen door slammed shut, and she could hear the rest of the Pogues reenter the house, likely to finish up whatever homework or enjoy the remnants of the Sunday afternoon. The sound of JJ’s boots approached, and Liz had to prepare herself for a moment before he came in. She didn’t know what instinct she would follow: the softening of her heart or the guarding of her gaze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He opened the door with a warm creak, smirking when he saw she was still awake, from the way her feet swung side-to-side gently. “Hey.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” she replied huskily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shut the door behind him and bent over to unlace his boots. He tugged them off and discarded them in the corner absently before he came to sit down next to her on the bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was just coming to get my earth science homework, but I guess you don’t need quiet like I thought.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hummed in acknowledgement, lost in the song.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You still wanna go to sleep?” he asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She may have had a pretty high tolerance, but she had smoked more of the good shit, and it was likely heightened in effect when she was so sleep-deprived. He was surely the more sober one of the two. The gut instinct to hold her hair back, rub circles on her skin, guide her sweetly through her intoxication, overtook him as it had so many times in the past. But he wasn’t her boyfriend, as she had pointed out one morning after he had fought a Touron. And it wasn’t his job to take care of her, no matter how much he wanted it to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” she said softly. Her words came out in a pensive whisper. “I’m just having a nice time listening to the music.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He snorted a laugh. “You’re so adorable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t say shit like that to me, JJ,” she said immediately, though still in that same gentle tone. Raising her head a bit, she met his slightly glassy, reddish gaze with her own to match.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shut his mouth and averted his eyes, nodding. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she said. “You just can’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he agreed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then after a moment, she asked: “Do you still wanna hang out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “Yeah. ‘Course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” she said, putting her head back down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ got more comfortable, back resting against the wall behind the bed, getting ready to listen to her playlist. Liz’s playlists were, in fact, pretty infamous amongst their group of friends. When she couldn’t afford presents for birthdays or holidays, she made them playlists. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, since you’re in earth science, tell me again why they declassified Pluto as a planet?” she asked. “I mean, I know it doesn’t have emotions or anything, but imagine being a planet and having your planet status taken away from you. I feel bad for it, y’know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JJ laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought! Feedback nourishes my soul :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>